Mega Man X: Ghosts Of The Machine
by Magus523
Summary: When the world of Mega Man gave way to that of Mega Man X, what became of the Robot Masters? Did they die, or simply... disappear?
1. Prologue: Leave A Whisper

_**Prologue: Leave A Whisper **_

_Author's Note: To those who haven't read my previous work in the Mega Man universe, this will likely make only partial, if any, sense. If so, you've been warned. As for the rest of you, those who follow the "Legacy Of Metal," as it's called, well, I can only hope you'll enjoy this as much as I will._ _Happy Maverick Independence Day. _

**January 1st, 2089, 6:00 PM **

**Mt. Everest, Nepal**

Even in modern times, with the world on the fast-track to what had once been a Hanna-Barbera cartoon, there were still a few places in the world where one could find privacy. Of course, even the most antisocial hermit would have paused at the thought of selecting Mt. Everest for their retreat. The cabin had been built nearly on top of the peak, far too high for any human to remain for very long without risking their life due to lack of oxygen, nearly 9,000 meters above sea level. Expecting to actually find anybody living there would have been ridiculous, save for one fact.

The only inhabitant of the cabin was not a human at all.

"You're a difficult man to find," the mountaineer said by way of greeting as he stood in the doorway, looking into the single room. It was as pleasantly, if sparsely, furnished as any less unusual lodge would have been, aside from the conspicuous lack of anything related to food or drink. The cabin's resident sat in front of a roaring fireplace, staring into it, as if he hadn't heard.

"If you've come here looking for a man, I'm afraid you've wasted a great deal of time and effort," he replied eventually.

"Now, that would depend on how you define the term, wot?" the visitor shot back, deliberately exaggerating his British accent as always. "Personally, I've never been a chap to let a silly thing like species stand in the way of who you really are."

"A dangerous opinion to hold, in these times," the Robot Master murmured, still looking straight ahead. "This is a good place to watch the world from, without becoming involved, and what I've seen hasn't been good, especially for my kind. Without the Lights... without Mega Man..." He shook his head.

"Without your father," the visitor said quietly. "He gave the world an enemy, one foe they could face as a united front, even if they were helpless against him. In his absence, it seems all our old rivalries and grudges and silly, petty rationales haven't faded quite as far away as we think they have. It'll be war again, within a year or two. And that's not all it'll be, either." He took a deep breath before continuing. "That's part of the reason I've come here."

"Because of war?" The cabin's owner shook his head, ever so slightly. "No. Mega Man turned me from that path, and gave me my life, when any other would have taken it, and rightly so. Rock Light believed in me, in second chances. He believed that people could change. I will not demean his memory by proving his faith in me unjustified."

"Not for war, old bean," the visitor corrected him. "For the other targets that that kind of violence and hatred and rage will find. In times of war, people find enemies at home, as well as abroad. We both know who they'll go after now, without the Lights. Without Mega Man." He stared at the side of the Robot Master's head. "You called yourself the king of the robots. It's your name. I came here hoping it would be your duty as well."

"You have named me," King, third "son" of Dr. Albert Wily, noted as he finally turned to meet his visitor's eyes. "I suppose it's only proper that I do the same in return. Dr. Trenton Corbun, contemporary of Dr. Thomas Light. Founder and president of Sennet Robotics until its fall during the Third Robot Rebellion. One of the last surviving members of the 'Gamma Team,' the builders of the 'ultimate peacekeeper,' along with Darwin Vinkus. Commonly acknowledged as the fourth greatest robotocist of the late 21st century."

"In other words, the top of the bottom." Corbun chuckled bitterly; it was an old grievance, and the fact that he knew nobody had ever actually cared but himself only made it the more sharp. "The tagalong who never matched up to the top three. That's me, right enough." Taking a hit from the bottle he carried on a sling, he continued. "I'm surprised you know that much about me. By the time you were on the scene, I was offstage, wot."

"As I said, this is a good place to watch the world." King's eyes roamed over Corbun, and the doctor knew he wouldn't be impressed by what he saw. He'd been handsome enough in his youth, but years of hard drinking had taken their toll on him by now, and he was nearly sixty anyways. A thin, weathered man with graying hair and a trim mustache that was his only concession to vanity, buried in the heavy clothing that had been necessary for reaching the cabin even with the aid of modern technology.

King himself, on the other hand, had the kind of appearance that most statues of great rulers could only dream of. He'd been built with that ideal in mind, knowing his creator. Tall and brawny, with classical features and a healthy tan, he had shunned the heavy armor he'd worn in the Ninth Robot Rebellion in favor of slacks and a dress shirt. The temperatures at Everest's peak posed far less of a threat to him than any human, after all.

"Since the death of Mr. X, you've been the one overseeing the Robot Museums he built over the world," he continued. "You've been shutting them down, one by one, ever since Mt. Fuji erupted in 2087 and buried Tokyo. The first was always the most popular. Without it, I assume the rest simply couldn't stay afloat."

"That isn't why," Corbun told him. "The age of the robot masters is ending, King. Anti-robot sentiments are at an all-time high, and this time, there isn't anybody to champion their cause. If somebody doesn't do something, your people will be destroyed, old boy. Not by a megalomaniac bent on world domination. By simple human hatred and prejudice, the same sentiments that have slaughtered minorities for thousands of years. Only this time, their targets aren't 'human' at all." He shook his head in disgust.

"Another will come," King told him calmly. "The family of Light is not yet extinct."

"You know too, then?" Corbun raised an eyebrow. "Aye, he'll come, but when? A year? A decade? A century? It'll be too late, by then. Tom's final gift to the world will usher in a new age of robots, ones who will be for all intents and purposes just like humans, but that will be small comfort to their murdered predecessors. If somebody's going to do something about this, it'll have to start now."

"You've practiced this speech," King said after a moment. "You've been planning this for quite some time."

"As I said." Corbun shrugged. "You're a difficult man to find."

"Then why go to the effort?" King asked him, and his tone was suddenly different from his previous detached monotone. Sharper. More serious. "If you want my help, answer honestly. I'm the son of Wily. I was your enemy, the enemy of all humans. Why me, of all people?"

"Because you're the only one left," Corbun answered without hesitation. "Tom is dead, now, may he rest in peace. He died in the eruption of Mt. Fuji. X died years ago. Darwin... is gone." He closed his eyes before continuing. "If you know about Tom's legacy, then you know what Wily's demon did to the others. Rock, Roll, Blues. Bass. Beat and Rush. Eddie. Gods, even _Eddie_." His voice cracked for a moment, before he continued. "They're all dead. Duo left this world again, almost certainly for good this time. Auto..." He trailed off, unable to finish.

"Auto?" King asked, and for the first time, his face showed emotion; worry. "When I went to visit, he was still alive. He was the one who told me what had happened. I'd thought, even if Dr. Light had no more desire to live..."

"He..." Corbun shook his head angrily. "He couldn't take it. He was the youngest, and those last few years, alone with Tom... Tom said he erased Auto's mind, converted him into a sentry at his request, but... gods, Auto was his _son_. He'd never have done that. He couldn't have."

"You think..." King's eyes widened.

"It's done, however it happened." Corbun opened his eyes again. "Auto's gone too, King. We're the only ones left, you and me. You're the only one I can ask for help with this, even if you are the son of Wily. There's nobody else."

"What of Cossack?" King pointed out. "He still lives, with his daughter, and his own robot masters."

"I lost Sergei Cossack's trust long ago, before even Blues was created," Corbun explained sadly. "In time, we became pals again, thanks to Tom, but even then... no. I considered it, but something like this... even if he would agree, I have no right asking it of him. He has burdens enough already." He smiled grimly for a moment. "Though I daresay he'd take it better coming from me than he would from _you_."

"And his reaction would pale to that of his daughter, should I knock on _that_ door." King smiled as well, faintly, his eyes distant. "I heard a story once, about an incident sometime during my Rebellion. Bass was working with the Lights then, and he came over to the house in order to confer with Rock on their next course of action..."

"Oh, blimey, I remember this," Corbun said, smile widening and voice growing mirthful. "And unbeknownst to him, Kalinka Cossack was visiting at the time. She'd come by to see Blues, and they hadn't told her Bass was on their side this time."

"So my little brother rings the doorbell, like a polite guest, and Roll goes to answer it." King's tone had become amused as well. "And Kalinka's in the living room with Blues, so she sees who it is, and because they're not freaking out, she doesn't either."

"She just stands up, very abruptly, and tells Bass it's nice to meet him, and leaves the room." Corbun lowered his head and started laughing. "Hahaha... and then the next thing they hear... ha ha... is her yelling to Auto... ha ha ha... that she's going to borrow his chainsaw for a bit! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"And then..." King covered his mouth for a moment before continuing. "And then Bass just looks at Blues and says, very sarcastically, 'Cute girlfriend, cuz!' Hahahahaha!" He lost it too, and they both laughed together for almost a minute, before abruptly quieting down, faces growing sorrowful once more. "If I had been there... if I'd been able to help them fight..."

"You'd have died, just like they did, old chap," Corbun told him, quietly but firmly. "And accomplished nothing more with your death than they did."

"Instead, you would have me change the world," King said, raising an eyebrow. "We've already addressed the whys of that, of course. So then, why _you_? What are _your_ reasons for taking this task upon yourself?"

"Tom was my friend." Corbun took another hit off the bottle before continuing. "Him, and all his children. He dreamed of a world where humans and robots could live in peace. I can't make that world a reality, but I can give the robot masters the next best thing. If I do that... maybe my life won't seem like such a waste."

"You have a wife," King pointed out mildly. "Daughters."

"My wife died of cancer earlier this year," Corbun said flatly, keeping all emotion out of the statement, and trying to act like it hurt less that way. "My daughters have lives and families of their own now. They don't need an old failure hanging around getting in the way."

"Then you are willing to commit the rest of your life to this?" King asked. "Everything you have, and everything you ever will?"

"Would I have climbed Mt. bloody Everest to find you if I wasn't?" Corbun snorted.

"Fair enough." King nodded. "Three conditions, then, and I'll join you in this endeavor."

"Name them," Corbun said warily.

"The first is that you sober up, starting now." King stared at the bottle meaningfully. "If we're going to do this, you'll need to live for as long as you can, and that means not killing yourself through liver failure. You managed to leave that path once before. Do it again, and this time stay off of it."

"I'll try," Corbun murmured, deflating. "But I tried before."

"You didn't have me helping you before." King smiled grimly. "Give me permission to keep you on the straight and narrow, if it's necessary."

"Done." Corbun's eyes narrowed, suddenly decisive, and threw the bottle over his shoulder, out into the snow. "The second?"

"The second is that you stop talking like a bad Monty Python reference." King kept smiling. "You're British. Fine. I get it. I've got the concept. That doesn't mean you need to be a walking stereotype. I've known you for ten minutes, and it's already irritating. I don't intend to put up with another three decades of it."

"Ha!" Corbun laughed, relaxing the accent. "You're the only one aside from my wife who's ever had the guts to call me on that, you know. She always hated it. All right, I'll agree to that one too. And the third?"

"You said my kind's plight was part of the reason you came to me." King's smile vanished now. "Tell me the rest of it. I have... concerns, and I suspect you may as well. If so... we might have more than one responsibility awaiting us."

"Later." Corbun was no longer amused either. "In a more... private location. But yes, I will, and if we're in agreement... we'll do something about that, as well."

"Then it seems we have an arrangement." King rose from the couch and walked over to clasp Corbun's hand. "And you have yourself a partner. It was about time I came down off of this mountain anyways."

"We're a sorry pair of heroes, but we're the only ones volunteering." Corbun smiled again, and for the first time in years, he felt something almost like hope. "Let's get to work, your majesty."

**June 4th, 2184, 2:00 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan**

After all the changes that had been made to it, it was almost impossible to tell that the "Holy Room" of the hidden city had once simply been an exhibit in a museum. Almost, but not quite. No matter how many times the reploid named Prince knelt before the statues present there, in silent meditation, he couldn't quite put the thought out of his mind that the silent figures had once simply been a matter of historical record, of two "families" who had, between them, changed the world forever.

"Hero guide my path," Prince murmured eventually under his breath, beginning with his own personal patron before moving on through the rest of the circle. "Creator guide my path. Watcher guide my path. Healer guide my path. Smith guide my path. Savior guide my path. Fallen guide my path. Reaper guide my path. Renegade guide my path. Warrior guide my path." He hesitated, only for a moment, before speaking to the last. One of the three still alive, and the only who he'd met, who he saw on a daily basis. "Guardian guide my path."

"He won't be happy, if he sees you doing that," another voice said, and Prince rose before turning to glance at Countess, one of the few other reploids living in the hidden city. Tall, pale and blonde, she was wearing her white armor as always, and giving him a look that bore both warning and amusement. "You know his opinions on that."

"I know." Prince nodded. "However, the other citizens believe in it, and..." He left it hanging.

"And it's important that we find as much common ground with them as possible." Countess finished. "I'm aware. I'm just reminding you to be careful."

"I always am." Prince nodded. "Speaking of his majesty..." He spoke the title without a trace of irony; to them, it was well earned. "Shall we go bring him today's news?"

"Very well." Countess nodded, and they left the room together, walking in silence through the rest of the building that had once been the Mr. X Robot Museum, Tokyo branch, until they reached the quiet, nearly unlit room at its heart.

"Prince." The last Robot Master of the "Advanced" type greeted them softly as the doors opened. "Countess." The ruler of the hidden city was sitting in the same chair he always occupied, a huge stone shape that came just short of being a throne, under the only light in the room. He spent most of his days there, his thoughts a mystery to anybody but himself. Shifting slightly, King raised his head and glanced at the two reploids. "Has there been any word from our field agents?"

"Yes, sir," Countess replied clinically, surveying her datapad as she began their report. "Needles, Joker, Grimlock and Snake have all sent reports."

"Snake?" King raised an eyebrow, nearly imperceptible within the huge orange helmet. Like all reploids and some robot masters, he had the ability to remove his armor, but none of the city's inhabitants had ever seen him without it. "I take it he's found another, then."

"Bingo," Prince confirmed. "Up to sixty-five now. Just two left once he finishes excavating this one. It's too soon to tell what models are in there, but he says he thinks there's three of them. With luck, they'll all be clean, and we'll be able to bring them in."

"Good." King nodded. "What of the other three, then?"

"Needles has finished his inspection of the former location of MI9's headquarters," Countess continued. "He confirms that no traces of their presence remain. The Scion's Zenith did good work. Joker's managed to procure another shipment of vehicle parts for us; the delivery was fully automated, and he was able to make the robot's destruction look like an accident. The shipment will be written off as lost at sea."

"I can't say I'm pleased to hear about the destruction of a robot, even one as primitive as those tend to be, but needs must," King murmured. "Earl will be pleased once those come in. And what about Grimlock?"

"He's found another, sir," Prince told him quietly. "A Guts Man model. Owned and employed by humans."

"It's been quite some time since we found one in the open," King said after a moment. "I'd almost thought we never would again. You've told Grimlock not to try and liberate him by himself, I trust?"

"Immediately, as soon as he reported in," Countess assured him. Grimlock was a Junk Man, and while he was the most intelligent example of that particular model anybody in Mecha had ever seen, that still wasn't saying much. "Grimlock is good at reconnaissance, but he isn't quite... suited for performing a rescue."

"Send Viscount and Margravine," King told them. "It's been some time since they made an expedition to the outside world, and they always grow moody when they go too long without being allowed out." A faint, tolerant smile flickered on his face for a moment. "They're the best at retrievals, anyways."

"Very true," Prince agreed, sighing; he knew who was going to have to actually track them down. "In other news, we've had two more Awakenings this week. Twitter from District 3 and Marco from District 8. Both are currently being reassigned; we believe Twitter will do well working in Duke's labs, and Marco in Earl's garage."

"An Elec Man and a Pirate Man, correct?" King recalled.

"Yes, sir," Countess agreed. "Marco is the first of that model to Awaken."

"Good." King nodded slowly; and Prince remembered that the original Pirate Man had been one of his subordinates during the Ninth Robot Rebellion, nearly a century ago. "We have few of them here. Hopefully the others will follow his example." He shifted in his chair. "What other news?"

"Marquis says he'll have the plans for the new dormitory ready for you by the end of the week," Prince replied, thinking. "Duke claims to be on the verge of a breakthrough in teleportation technology; specifically, related to the 'faintwarp' phenomenon." He made sure to keep his face absolutely straight as he continued. "And Baron would like to request permission to set up a baseball league among the Awakened."

"A baseball league?" King repeated, amused. "That sounds like Baron, all right. And where does he plan to hold the games?"

"That empty cavern over by District 7 that Marquis discovered two years ago," Prince explained. "It was dangerous at the time, but he's been reinforcing the ceiling as a sort of hobby, and he claims it's safe now."

"Well, if there are enough of them who'd want to play, then by all means, tell Baron to go ahead," King conceded. "He's the expert on such matters, after all. If he thinks it will be good for them, it probably will. Is there anything else?"

"That's all for today, sir." Countess nodded, as did Prince. "If you have no further instructions for us, we'll leave you, then."

"Inform me if anything important comes up," King said by way of farewell, as he always did. He remained in his chair, staring ahead, as they left his chambers.

"That went well," Prince muttered under his breath once they were alone.

"As well as it normally does." Countess shrugged. "You weren't actually expecting him to be in a good mood, were you?"

"No, it's just..." Prince started to say, then gave up, sighing. "Never mind. I don't suppose you know where I'd be able to find Viscount and Margravine?"

"They'll be at the music hall in District 9," Countess told him, smiling slightly. "The Turbomen are performing."

"Of course." Prince shook his head, grinning ruefully as well. "I should have known. I'll give them your regards."

"Telling them off for me would be more honest," Countess said lightly as she turned to the left, towards another door. "I'll see you later."

"Until then." Waving, Prince continued on towards the front of the building, and stepped out into the streets of District 1 in the hidden city of Mecha.

Constructed entirely underground, built into and out of the ruins of old Tokyo that had been buried in the Mt. Fuji eruption of 2087, Mecha was the only city in the world that had never once known a human presence. Without a sky overhead, there was no day or night, simply twenty-four-hour periods in which the inhabitants went about their schedules. Schedules were very important to the citizens of Mecha, for with a few reploid exceptions, they were Robot Masters, both those who had Awakened and those had not.

The most numerous models present were those who had been mass-produced commercially, particularly the Lighttech brands, although Sennet Robotics and U.S. Robotics models both had strong presences as well. Wilybots and independent models were far less numerous, but there were a few sprinkled here and there, going about their business on foot for the most part, with only an occasional public hoverbus blasting past. Though it was mostly urban, there were gardens and parks, plantborgs grown by artificial light; robot masters enjoyed such things as much as humans did.

As he always did, Prince watched the citizens as he walked through the streets, a tall reploid in purple and gold armor with fiery orange hair and dark, searching eyes. Outside a dormitory, sitting at a table, two Cut Men played poker with a Gravity Man and a Flash Man. On a street corner, a Spark Man and a Sword Man lounged, chatting about news from the world above. One wall of a building was undergoing repairs, with a team of Guts Men, Hard Men and Stone Men working on it, each similar but not identical to their series mates, subtle differences chosen by them since coming to Mecha.

How would the people of the world above react if they learned of Mecha's existence, Prince mused, as he watched a Gyro Man and a Tengu Man blast past overhead, calling cheerful insults to each other as they raced through the air above their home. From what he knew of the way reploids like himself were usually treated, he didn't feel much confidence. The best result possible would probably have been invasion and conquest, authority installed to "monitor" them and "ensure they caused no harm." No, secrecy was Mecha's greatest shield, and it always would be.

His destination was in District 9, northeast of District 1 at the center of Mecha. Margravine's territory. Though it was largely unconscious, each of the districts had gradually taken on something of the character of their overseer. As he passed into it, the buildings began to spread out further, slightly more open. There was a greater amount of greenery, and the buildings had more windows and skylights, along with brighter colors of paint. There were more lights, and a greater sense of creativity in general. Prince had always rather liked it, although he'd never actually admit that to her. Encouragement was the _last _thing Margravine needed.

He located the music hall without any trouble; after his many decades in Mecha, he knew the city's layout by heart. Stepping inside, he was surrounded by a blast of sound immediately. Despite its name, the building's interior resembled a modern human nightclub more than anything, aside from the lack of food or drink; robot masters had no use for such things. Dozens of them filled the hall, some of them lounging in chairs or couches, while others danced to the music.

Four robot masters were onstage, all of them Wilybots from the seventh Robot Rebellion. The Turbomen, as they had aptly named their band, were some of Mecha's best examples of what the citizenry aspired to. Each of them had not only a name by now, but a distinctive personality reflected in how they'd modified their individual appearances. Watching the drummer launch into a blistering solo, Prince smiled to himself; he could see why Viscount and Margravine spent so much time at these concerts, even if he preferred classical music to robot rock.

The two reploids he'd come to the music hall in search for were the only ones of their kind present aside from himself. They lounged in a shady corner at the back of the hall, sharing a couch, arms draped around each others' shoulders as they bobbed their heads in unison, enjoying the music. Walking over, Prince stood before them, raised an eyebrow and waited for them to respond to his presence.

"I hadn't thought this particular scene was to your tastes," Viscount murmured eventually, glancing up at him. Pale and lean, with spiked-up blue hair, he wore casual black clothes instead of his armor, along with a perpetual smile on his sharp features. "I suppose we should congratulate you on expanding your horizons."

"Unless you're only here because you're looking for us," Margravine added, sliding closet to Viscount. As short as her partner was tall, she was dark and cute, with a bob of red hair the same shade as her eyes. Like Viscount, she was grinning as a matter of habit; it was the only physical similarity between the two aside from their preference for jeans and t-shirts, white in her case instead of black. "If that was the case, that would probably mean you had a job for us, and _that_... would probably suck."

"Lazy." Prince kept his own face stern. "You two are lazy. Not to mention reckless, selfish, flighty and disobedient."

"Excuse me?" Viscount affected an offended expression. "I'll gladly plead guilty to the rest of that, but disobedient? I think not!"  
>"Yes, be fair, that's my problem, not his," Margravine agreed, pouting. "And I'm not lazy. He is, but not me."<p>

"You're rubbing off on each other, is what you are." Prince shook his head mournfully, still playing along. "You were both bad enough already, without being an influence on each other. As you wish, though. If you don't want this one, fine. I'll go have Earl do it, or perhaps Baron. Both of them, maybe." He started to turn away.

"Wait, wait, wait," Margravine said quickly. "We appreciate the sentiment, but you never told us just what it is."

"Oh?" Prince glanced back at them. "I thought it would probably suck."

"Probably, but not definitively, o Prince," Viscount told him. "And certainly not from the way you're acting."

"We've found another Robot Master on the surface," Prince said, relenting. "One of our scouts spotted him. He's going to need somebody else to handle the retrieval."

"All _right!_" Margravine's eyes lit up. "We're going up top!"

"It certainly seems so," Viscount agreed. "Most excellent."

"Don't get too excited, now," Prince reminded them. "This is business, not a license to go on a field trip."

"Yes, yes." Margravine flapped a hand dismissively. "It's still going up top, isn't it? That's good enough for us." She leaned forward, eyes bright. "So tell us the details. What's the story behind this one?"

"According to Grimlock, it's a Guts Man model owned by a rich eccentric." Prince handed her the datapad he'd brought to the music hall with him. "Which explains why we never found him until now. They're out in the wilderness, north of St. Berlin."

"Grimlock was the scout who located this one?" Viscount blinked. "Well. That explains why we're being sent out."

"Berlin." Margravine drummed her fingers on her arm. "That's fairly close to where Pharaoh Man used to run around, isn't it? He's not going to mind, is he?"

"Your grasp of geography is a little off," Prince told her flatly. "And besides, he never has before. At any rate, your methods are up to you, of course, but I'd suggest trying to pretend to be semi-legal as a Plan A. Use your cover identities and attempt to purchase the Guts Man. If that fails..."

"We can do things a more... subtle way," Viscount finished for him. "Or, if necessary, more direct, though that's a last resort."

"We've done this a hundred times before," Margravine reminded him. "We're the best at it. We know what we're doing."

"I never doubted that you did," Prince assured them. "Just remember, absolute secrecy. No hint or trace of Mecha's existence can ever be allowed to leak to the world outside, until the day we dread finally comes."

"'Leave a whisper, and nothing more,'" Viscount recited their motto. "We know."

"I know." Prince smiled. "Have fun."

"You see? I told you he was a likable guy once he takes the stick out." Margravine nudged Viscount in the side. "You need to listen to me more often."

"I never claimed otherwise," Viscount protested mildly. "Besides, if I did _that_, I'd be making it too easy for you. And you don't want that, now do you?"

"A valid point," Margravine agreed. "Now that would just be boring. And we certainly don't want that."

"Certainly not."

"Disgusting." Prince shook his head jokingly again. "You realize that by the way our citizens reckon things, you two would be brother and sister, right?"

"That's robot masters." Margravine argued lightly. "We're reploids. It's different for us. Besides, even then it's just a figure of speech. There's no genetics involved at all, shared between us or otherwise."

"And it's not as if there are any other options available for a more... personal companionship, are there?" Viscount asked slyly.

"Enough." Prince turned away, raising his hands. "I _don't_ need to hear the details. I'm getting back to work. I suggest you do the same."

"If 'work' involves heading up top, by all means," Margravine assured him. "We'll head out as soon as the concert's over and be back before you know it with our new citizen."

"Then I will see you upon your return." Prince nodded to them, then turned away and went back out into the hidden city of the robot masters.

There were only so many hours in the day, even without a sun to rise or fall, and he still had much to do.

**Time Unknown **

**Place Unseen **

It had often been said that to look down at the world from space was an experience like no other. That the sight of the planet Earth, great and bright and colorful, as seen in its entirety, was one of the most awe-inspiring experiences any man could possibly hope for. And this was true. It was, indeed, a sight that defied description.

It was also said that, unfortunately, this was an experience that all too few could ever enjoy. Even in the twilight of the 22nd century, less than a handful of men, both reploid and human, were ever given the opportunity to journey into the stars above and see the world from there. And while this was true, it was also false, for there was another way, another place from which one could take in that most humbling of views.

The trick was, you had to die first.

It was a place of white mists and black earth, the latter obscured by the former. Even with the ever-present fog, though, one could never fail to see the edge; it was a curved, right-angle, absolute line of demarcation stretching off into infinity to both left and right. It was beyond this fearsome precipice that one could look and see the world they had left behind, glowing not with the light of the sun, but with the unquantifiable amount of life present upon it.

Every so often, a gray-cloaked walker would emerge from the mists to stand at the edge. There, they would stare down as if seeking something before hurling themselves from the precipice and into the world. After some time, they would return, bearing others with them; men and women, young and old, human and reploid. The gray walkers were always accompanied when they came back, but they always left alone. Most of them were human, but a few were reploid, and one of them was neither.

None took notice of the two men who always stayed at the edge. One was human, ancient and battered and broken inside; his hair was a wild mess around a central bald spot, the same gray as his mustache, and he wore a labcoat over a dress shirt and slacks, all torn and tattered. Tall and lanky, he never looked at the world below, too busy staring at his own hands, dead eyes filled with a miserable self-loathing.

His companion was a reploid, and this one _did_ watch the world, bright green eyes burning with unresolved tension and adrenaline, coupled with the endless frustration of being forced to watch, and do nothing more. His armor was red and white, all sharp edges and straight lines, and a long blonde ponytail hung from the back of his head. Though one was human and one reploid, when seen together, a vague similarity in their facial features almost made them appear as if they were father and son.

They had been there since they had died, one for the first time and one for the second and neither for the last, though in two entirely separate ways. One had died and lived again and died again, and was fated to live and die once more, while the other had only died partially, and the rest of him still remained in the world of the living.

Sometimes they had company; other reploids would join them briefly before returning to the world below, or those who had known them in life would come out from the mists to visit, while glancing at the world themselves. But they were the only two who remained, on the edge between life and death, and none of the gray walkers ever glanced their way but for one. The one who had brought them both there, and who was the only one of the gray walkers to be neither human nor reploid.

"Out from the night and the mists steps a figure," he sang, badly, as he approached the two from behind, his voice an unpleasant screech. "No-one really knows his name for sure. He stands at six foot six, head and shoulders. Pray he never comes knocking at your door."

At five feet even, he was tall for a robot master, and a robot master he was, one of the few who had never been mass-produced. Hunched and top-heavy, with a bulky black and red torso atop spindly legs, one arm ended in a permanent cannon, the other in an oversized hand with fingers as thick as sausages. His head was a bald, synthflesh-covered skull, and his eyes a startling blue, sharply at odds with the rest of his appearance.

"I see your taste in movies is the same as your taste in wardrobe," the reploid said, glancing over his shoulder with an amused smirk. "Shitty."

"It's called a uniform," the robot master replied, rolling his eyes. "Just be glad I talked 'em into making the scythe ornamental. Never would have managed to convince anybody else to hire on if I had to lug one of those around all day."

"Can't argue that one," the reploid admitted, turning his gaze back to the world below as the gray walker sat down next to them. "So how _is_ the office doing?"

"Eh, you know how it goes." The robot master shrugged. "We've finally got all the paperwork from the Eurasia crash taken care of, so there's that at least, but most of 'em are just punch-clock reapers. Lee and Morrigan are doing pretty well, though. You remember them, right? Used to be a couple of yours, before they signed on with mine."

"You sound like a tired old man, big bro," the reploid joked. "Maybe you're about ready to retire."

"No." The robot master shook his head slowly, apparently not seeing any humor in the words. "Not just yet. Not until I watch it end, with my own eyes." They were both silent then, for a while, before he spoke again. "How's dad?"

"Same as ever." The reploid shrugged. "He's stopped trying to mutilate himself, at least. Now he just sits there." They both turned their heads to look at the human, who showed no sign of acknowledging their presence. "You know, I used to think I'd never stop hating him, after you told me the whole story. But seeing him here, like this, seeing what he thinks about it, how much he hates himself without anybody else's help..." He trailed off.

"How do you think _I_ felt when _I_ stopped hating him?" The robot master replied, voice sober despite the ever-present grin etched permanently upon his features, as he jerked a thumb towards the human. "How long do you think I was in denial about not hating him any more, after how long I did? But when you get right down to it, all he is, right here, is everything he was _before_ his madness. The man who joined hands with Dr. Thomas Light to save the world. It's not so bad, having a father like that."

"I guess not," the reploid admitted. "You know, when you think about the way we all turned out, you have to wonder if maybe there was a little bit left of that part of him, even at the end. Not enough to actually change anything, but enough to give _us_ the chance to."

"'All?'" The robot master raised a nonexistent eyebrow, and the reploid scowled.

"Fine," he conceded. "_Almost_ all of us." Once more, they sat there in silence for a time before he spoke again. "All right, that's enough small talk. Why are you _really_ here? You wouldn't drop by just to shoot the shit with me."

"Sharp as ever," the robot master said, shrugging. "Yeah, okay. It's almost time for you to go back, little bro. Not just yet, but almost. Thought I'd drop by and give you a heads-up."

"You don't say." The reploid grinned, slowly, dangerously. "Hell, it's about time. I'm not suited to sitting on my keister watching the show from backstage, you know? Give me a piece of the action any day."

"That's our side of the family talking." The robot master chuckled. "The Light boys never actually enjoy it. Oh, they'll fight when it's necessary, but when it's done, they'll hang their busters up with no regrets. But us... even when we switch sides, and we always do, there's something about the thrill of the fight, the blood and the glory, that gets the ol' microfusion generator racing."

"Always?" The reploid retorted.

"Well." The robot master's grin remained, fixed on his face, but his eyes darkened. "Almost always."

"Yeah." The reploid's smile faded, as quickly as it had appeared. "About that. Since we're talking about family, and all. If it's about time for me to go back... that means _he's_ almost ready to rise out of the sea, isn't he?"

"Bingo." The robot master nodded. "And _she'll_ be there too. Not to mention that _asshole_." He gave the reploid a direct glance. "_That's_ the one that's going to be _your _responsibility, you know."

"That one's _personal_, is what it is." The reploid tightened his fists, clenching his teeth. "Problem is... you said I'll forget all this, right? When I go back. That I won't remember anything that happened on this side."

"Yeah, you won't remember," the robot master admitted. "It's the rules and all. You'll forget, but not for long." His smile turned cryptic, and his eyes glinted. "I'm not the only big brother you've got, after all."

"Yeah, okay." The reploid nodded. "I can work with that. So, how long are we talking here, anyways?"

"Not long at all." The robot master looked over his shoulder, as the mists began to part. "Perhaps even less time than I thought."

Some were robot masters, and one was a reploid, yellow and black with a cheerful smile and innocent eyes. One wore red and gray with his old-fashioned shades, and by his side was a human woman of staggering beauty; when he was with her, he seemed to have somehow achieved the adulthood denied to him in life despite his adolescent design.

Another girl was a robot master herself, in a dress of red, and she kept pace with a boy in black, staying in line with each other but carefully not moving too close. A robotic purple wolf followed at their heels, following evenly between them. And their leader was all in blue, with a red dog at his right and a walking suitcase at his left and a blue bird flying above, and his eyes were filled with regret.

The others were human, the men mostly aged, for it was in their twilight years that they had felt most alive, that they had changed the world the most. Two were exceptions to that rule, one tall and handsome, with fiery orange hair and a bristling beard. The other was dark of hair and mustache, and unlike most of the others he wore a satisfied smile upon his face, as if he knew what had happened and what would happen, and was content with his part in it.

Another appeared to be in his late middle age, short and stout and balding, and he was different from all the rest in that he was wrapped in chains and locks, clinking and rattling as they trailed behind him into the mists; and yet, he still trudged onward, and none of the others objected. The last three men all wore snow-white beards, and two of those three walked with canes, one bald as an egg and clad in a blue kimono, the other wearing sunglasses and a dramatic black cloak.

Only their leader walked unaided, in his brown slacks and white labcoat, dark eyebrows offsetting his bright white hair and beard, puffing on his pipe as if it could vanish at any moment. He, and the other two, were all accompanied by women who looked to be half their age, for they had all died long before their partners. Still, they came along with everybody else, for though they had had no direct hand in events, their influence had remained.

One by one, together or alone, the ghosts of the past, of friends and family began to come together. They gathered at the edge between life and death, to wait and watch, as the end of an era drew near once more.

And the gray walker smiled, as he always had, and said nothing more.


	2. Chapter 1: Opening The Crypt

_**Chapter 1: Opening The Crypt **_

**January 3rd, 2089, 10:00 PM **

**Trenton Corbun's penthouse apartment, London **

"Good evening, Dr. Corbun," the security guard sitting behind the desk of the apartment complex said, glancing over the top of his newspaper. "Back from your trip, I see."

"And with a colleague," Corbun replied, smiling. "Lou, this is Rex Rossum. He's going to be staying at my place indefinitely."

"Nice to meet you," King said calmly, setting his oversized luggage down and reaching over to shake the guard's hand.

"Same here, Mr. Rossum," Lou replied. "Say, you look kind of familiar. You ever been on TV or something?"

"I'm afraid not." King shook his head. "I prefer to remain out of the spotlight."

"Can't say I blame you, with the way the world's looking right now." Lou sat back down, looking disgusted. "Robot masters are one thing-it ain't like they're really alive, you know?-but when people start talking about 'taking action' against the guys who built them, too... well, that's going too far. No sir, keeping your head's down probably the smart move."

"I certainly try to, these days." Corbun forced a chuckle as he walked towards the elevator, King at his heels. "Cheerio, Lou." Once they were on their way up, he glanced at his companion. "Well, that more or less confirms it, wouldn't you say? You pass for a human remarkably well."

"One thing I am grateful to my creator for," King replied, nodding. "He built me taller than most of my kind." The two of them were both wearing identical charcoal suits now, along with London Fog overcoats and fedoras; King had picked his up while they were waiting for their flight in Kathmandu. Even before then, none of the people they'd encountered in the city had shown the slightest suspicion towards his species, or his identity at all. "I suppose I should add the fact that my helmet partially covered my face to that list as well."

"Yes, we'd best stay out of sight all the same." Corbun coughed. "Shame about that one broadcast you made."

"There are more regrettable things than that about my Robot Rebellion," King said firmly.

"You didn't know any better," Corbun told him as the elevator opened on the rooftop, and they both walked out towards the penthouse apartment. "And once you did, you repented. It won't bring those people back to life, but you can still prevent the deaths of others, both of your kind and of mine."

"That's why I came with you," King agreed as Corbun unlocked the door. "Atonement without action is empty." Following the doctor inside, he glanced around the expensively furnished living room and raised an eyebrow. "Nice place."

"Sennet Robotics might have gone under, but I've never had any problems with my personal finances," Corbun told him, smiling slightly. "There's a guest room towards the back. Second door on the left. That'll be yours until we set up shop somewhere else."

"Not planning to run our operation out of here, then?" King asked with a straight face as they both set their luggage down on the floor.

"From a penthouse apartment?" Corbun replied dryly. "Hardly inconspicuous. I'd offer you a drink, but unless you're even more advanced than I thought, I doubt it would go well."

"Unfortunately, I think not." King frowned. "Are you having one?"

"Soda only," Corbun promised him, walking over to his fridge and taking out a canned cola. "I meant what I said when I promised to get off the sauce."

"Good." King nodded as Corbun walked back over and sat down in a recliner. After a moment, the robot master did the same in another. "Well, then. Have you given any more thought to our plan?"

"I have," Corbun said calmly. "And I've come to the same conclusion as before. It's going to have to be Tokyo, unless we want to build someplace completely from scratch."

"And keeping that completely undetected would be nigh-impossible, even for us," King agreed. "I'd come to the same conclusion. There are other abandoned cities, thanks to the Third World War, but they're all visible from satellite. Tokyo is the only one I know of that's completely underground... although I doubt there'll be much left of it, even once we do dig in there."

"There'll be something," Corbun said with more confidence than he felt; in honesty, it was more hope than actual knowledge that had led him to choose Tokyo, but that was enough for him. "Besides, I can at least say with confidence that the Robot Museum will still be standing. I helped with the construction of that place, and it was built to stand up to an attack by Wily himself."

"That will be the center of our hidden city, then," King decided. "Fitting, and it will give us a head start on building our population as well. Most of the Robot Masters on display were fully operational, were they not? Simply unactivated."

"Correct." Corbun nodded. "I never liked that, but I could see the logic. Now, though... we'll be able to give them an actual life. Of course, we'll have to actually get in there. Easier said than done."

"We'll need robots," King told him, looking thoughtful. "Excavation, demolition, and reconstruction robots. Will you be able to get a sufficient quantity without drawing any attention?"

"If I bought the robots directly?" Corbun shook his head. "No. Not in this day and age, with war on the horizon. But I _can_ get the _parts_ for them much more discreetly. And if the two of us can't build ourselves a workforce, then nobody can."

"Good enough." King nodded, before chuckling slightly. "I never thought I would be building robots again, and here I am, about to do so just as much as I did during my Rebellion. Only this time, to preserve life instead of threaten it."

"It's a good thing." Corbun smiled. "We'll have to find some place to go in that won't be detected, once we have enough robots. Oh, and to make sure to clear the air in there, first thing. I'd rather like to actually be able to walk around there without choking on the volcanic gases."

"Easily doable, with modern technology," King assured him. "That's the plan, then. We'll be able to form a more detailed long-term outline once we actually get a look at what it's like down there. With luck, we'll at least have the Robot Museum restored within six months at the most. You know more about current affairs than I do. Will that be enough time?"

"It should," Corbun said slowly, thinking about what he knew of the day's geopolitics. "The United Nations is falling apart, but it'll hang on for a little longer, at least. And as long as it does, the anti-robot sentiments will stay at least _somewhat_ subdued. No, I'd say we've still got another year at least before everything breaks down."

"Good," King said. "We should probably plan on waiting until then to start our rescues, in that case. One robot master disappearing suddenly wouldn't draw suspicion, but a hundred of them? Two hundred? All in the same timeframe? We'd never get away with it. We can start making a few initial grabs as soon as the Robot Museum is cleared, just to practice, but the majority of them should wait until the world has other concerns to distract them."

"We'll be able to make it look natural, too, with all that going on," Corbun added. "We'll just have to be fast. Stage anti-robot atrocities to cover up their disappearances, before real ones happen."

"We won't be able to save them all," King said quietly. "Not if we want to remain undiscovered. But we will be able to make a difference. My only concern is the ones who actually consider themselves to be property. They may see our rescue of them as tantamount to theft, and resist or outright refuse."

"You underestimate your people, my friend," Corbun told him, smiling slightly. "I won't say it's impossible, but such cases will be the exceptions rather than the rule. I'd bet on it."

"Then let's hope you know how to pick your bets." King slowly nodded. "You were right, back on Everest. I _do _have a responsibility to my people, and I _will_ uphold it. Whatever it takes."

"And I, as well." Corbun's smile dropped. "Whatever it takes."

**June 4th, 2184, 3:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, New Tokyo **

"_Sixty-seven years ago, on April 4, 2117, Dr. James Cain discovered the buried capsule containing Mega Man X, precursor to the reploid race_," the exaggeratedly sober-looking host droned on the Maverick Hunter HQ's "big screen" in their war room. At three A.M., with the few techs on watch relieved of their duty, nobody but the two men watching were there to notice the flagrant misuse of the massive, three-dimensional projector looming over the amphitheater-like rows descending towards the wall in which it was mounted.

"_According to Cain's reports, the capsule had been buried for nearly thirty years to allow for testing of X's mind. Thirty years since the eruption of Mt. Fuji, which buried the entire city of Tokyo, resulting in a loss of life almost equal to that customarily claimed in the Robot Rebellions of Dr. Wily and the Maverick Uprisings of Sigma. Compounding the tragedy, it is widely believed that the deaths included those of Dr. Thomas Light, creator of reploids and robot masters, as well as his family. Blues, Roll, Auto, and especially Rock Light, more commonly known as 'Mega Man'..." _

"I'm sorry," Mega Man X, last surviving son of Dr. Light, prototype of the reploids, and Captain of the elite 17th Unit of the Maverick Hunters said absently. Jerking his attention from the history channel, he regarded his only companion in the dark war room once more. "What was that?"

"Oh, just an old man's babble." Simon King, a lifelong acquaintance and later a friend of X, chuckled. "Pay it no mind." Unlike X, he was a human, and an aged one at that; his hair had gone gray early, and the stress of his job had given him his share of wrinkles. He was still as energetic as ever, though, and one of the few men living among the Hunters who could remain cheerful in almost any circumstances.

Not that Simon was a Hunter himself; as Public Relations Officer, his duties were more bureaucratic in nature, and had more to do with keeping the Hunters' political enemies at bay than it did putting down Mavericks. One of the rare examples of a "Hunter brat," which was to say, a human child born to and raised by one or two of the few humans among the Hunters, he'd spent his entire life among their ranks. When asked about this, he always shrugged and replied that he simply couldn't imagine living anywhere else, or any other way, after fifty-seven years.

"Simon." X gave the old man a direct look. At this hour, he wore simple jeans and a t-shirt, both dark blue, instead of the similarly-colored armor that usually covered his frame; only his robotic boots, heavy and reaching to mid-calf, remained attached to his feet, as permanent for him as for any reploid. Aside from those, he could be mistaken for a young adult, save for the piercing look in his deep green eyes, one developed through decades of unwanted time on the battlefield. "I might not look like it, but I'm older than you. Almost old enough to be your father."

"Yes, yes, I know," Simon agreed, giving in. "That's what I was saying, actually. Sixty-seven years since your discovery, since reploids went into production. Sixty-seven years. It's not quite a lifetime, not in this day and age, but it's certainly a respectable number."

"And yet, only a handful of the millions of reploids built in that first year are still alive today," X said quietly, thoughts turning to the past, and to the friends who were no longer with him, through death or departure. _Cain. Cancer. Hazil. Flame, Boomer, and all the others in the 1st Unit. _

_ Zero. _

"_Built by Light to be robotic lifeforms fully as intelligent and sentient as humans, reploids remain only partially accepted by society, due to the threat of 'Mavericks,' those among their number who actively cause violence against humans, as well as their own kind,_" the host continued to drone on. "_A great deal of the mistrust stems from the fact that Light designed the reploid mind specifically so that it could not be bound by the Laws of Robotics, most relevantly the First Law, 'A robot must not harm a human being,' a decision that Dr. Cain agreed with and defended to his dying day..._"

"Did you ever meet him?" X asked, motioning towards the projector, as the host continued to drone on. "Cain, I mean."

"Not that I recall, I'm afraid." Simon shook his head. "He was before my time, for the most part. I was only six when he died. I'm sure I'd have met him at least once or twice before then, what with living on base and all, but if I did, I don't remember it. That's one thing about being a human, X my boy. When you get as old as the two of us are, you don't really recall the early years so much any more."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, sometimes," X muttered, remembering how the first year of his life had ended in fire and blood and betrayal. Only four men, three of them reploid and one of them human, among the Hunters and staff had survived Sigma's initial treason. And of the four, now only X remained. "There's a lot I wish I could forget."

"What was he like?" Simon asked, glancing at him. "Cain."

"Serious, but not grim," X said, focusing on the happier moments of his first few decades. "He was stern, but he had a sense of humor when he thought he could afford to let it show. I think it was because he was an archaeologist, a civilian, all his life until he found me. He was older than either of us are now, with no military background whatsoever, when he suddenly became Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and he took that responsibility pretty darn serious. Made a lot of hard calls he didn't like, because of that. Even against me, sometimes."

"You were close, weren't you?" Simon asked quietly.

"Yeah." X slowly nodded. "As much as I wish I could have known Dr. Light, and my brothers and sister... Cain was the closest thing to a father I ever really had. The father I knew, in my lifetime. To me, to Zero, to another guy named Cancer who never made it into the history books, and..." He cut himself off, but both of them knew what he had been about to say. _And to Sigma. _"Was it the same for you?"

"Not really," Simon admitted. "But then, my father wasn't killed until I was seven, so that's a little different." After his mother's death early in his life, Simon had been raised by his father, Damon King, one of the 6th Unit's best. When Damon was killed in action as well, his superior and friend, Captain Sirus, and his wife had adopted Simon. It had been the first case of inter-species adoption that had been legalized, and had broken new ground in reploid-human relationships, paving the way for Simon's future career. "It was more complicated, for me."

"I guess it would be," X admitted, turning his attention back to the history channel.

"_Although the term Maverick is used to describe any criminal reploid, most are only minor threats, no more dangerous than any human driven to a life of crime by circumstances,_" the host droned. "_Even those who commit murder, whether human or reploid, and earn an automatic death sentence regardless of circumstances, are usually civilian models, and thus little threat to a squad of trained Maverick Hunters. The real danger to mankind are those infected by the Maverick Virus, transformed into twisted, bloodthirsty distortions of their former selves by its corruption..._"

"Sixty-seven years," Simon continued to murmur. "Yes, indeed..."

"Simon, why are you still up?" X asked, semi-plaintively; he knew his old friend wouldn't be offended. "It's three AM."

"Nerves." The rosy-cheeked old man shrugged. "I can never sleep, the night before Maverick Independence Day. Why are you?"

"Robots don't sleep," X replied evasively. "They just-"

"Enter stasis, I know." Now it was Simon's turn to give him a look. "Which is basically the same thing, so stop splitting hairs."

"Same reason as you," X admitted. "It's probably going to be ugly out there, tomorrow." He closed his eyes. "And I'll be giving a _speech_, of all things."

"I know how you feel about public relations, but it's necessary, X," Simon assured him. "Especially in the post-Eurasia world, people need to know the Maverick Hunters are doing this for them, not for ourselves. With every year, government control slips a little more, and the world becomes a little more chaotic."

"I still can't believe it's gotten to the point where I _miss_ the days when the GDC had actual power behind all its blustering," X said dryly. "For all the crap they used to give us, they kept the peace. Now..." He sighed. "Now it's just tiny little islands of life, in a sea of scorched earth, each one concerned only with its own boundaries. No more global government, no more united society. Even the Hunters have to get permission to warp into any settlement but Japan these days."

"At least there's something," Simon reminded him. "When Eurasia fell, even I thought we'd had it. But here we both are, and the Hunters with us. We're still alive, X. And as long as there's life..."

"There's hope," X finished for him. "I know."

"_Led by Sigma, former Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters as well as Captain of the 1st Unit, arch-traitor and self-proclaimed revolutionary, the viral Mavericks have launched Uprising after Uprising against the world,_" the host continued. "_In a sense, one could say that Sigma and his hordes have become the heirs of Dr. Wily, the fallen hero and insane genius who first threatened the world with his robotic hordes long before reploids were created. Though every bit as brilliant as his former partner, Dr. Light, Wily's gifts to mankind became tainted by madness..._"

"I take it my speech is ready for me?" X asked.

"It's on your desk, of course." Simon looked slightly offended. "It's been there since yesterday morning."

"I haven't been in my office in a couple days," X explained apologetically. "I don't really like having one much."

"You don't really like _anything_ about being a Hunter, X," Simon pointed out. "Not even the downtime, any more. You used to, you know. You lived for the breaks in the action, the months when you could take your armor off and let the other Hunters handle most of the workload, until the next Uprising. These days, though... these days, it's almost like you're impatient for another Uprising to hurry up and get here."

"Maybe I am," X said quietly. "Zero was like that, back in those days. He wasn't like me. He was always edgy, tense, whenever there wasn't an Uprising going on. Couldn't focus on anything but the Mavericks. He always knew it was just a momentary peace, one that could be shattered at any moment, and that the world would need us to pick up the pieces." He snorted. "Pieces of peace. He'd have liked that one."

"It's been nearly thirty years, X," Simon told him, gently but firmly. "I know we never recovered the body, but if Zero was going to come back again..."

"He'd have done so by now," X agreed. "Never could sit still for long, even when he was dead. Wasn't six months before the Mavericks put him back together, and I brought him back. Twenty-nine years... no, I'm not holding out hope for another miracle. Wherever Zero is now, it's got to be a better place than here. That just leaves me. Me and Sigma. That's why I can't relax in peacetime any more, Simon. Somebody's got to be on the lookout for that monster showing his face again. And Zero's not around to do that for me any more."

"Do you think he'll strike tomorrow?" Simon asked, looking worried. "It's been more than two years since his last attack."

"Possibly, but I doubt it," X said, shaking his head. "Sigma loves important dates as much as anybody, but if he was going to do something like that, it'd be next year, not this one. Or last year, the sixty-fifth anniversary of 'Maverick Independence Day.' No, that's not what's bothering me about Sigma. What bugs me is the fact that _all_ of his Uprisings over the last thirty years have been relatively small-scale. He hasn't done something huge and global since Eurasia. Hasn't even tried. He just picks a settlement, sends in his Mavericks, and goes on a rampage until I stop him."

"You think he's planning something," Simon realized. "Biding his time. You think these 'mini-Uprisings' are just endless diversions. A smokescreen, to keep you from realizing what he's up to. Building his forces, holding the majority of them back and only throwing out just enough to pose a threat while he keeps the bulk of them in a steadily growing reserve."

"He knows if he just disappears, we won't buy it," X explained. "He tried that before, back in the early thirties. We thought we'd nailed him for good, that time." He snorted. "You'd think we'd have learned by then. Anyways, for once he went along with it, and played the long game while he infiltrated an organization named URFAWP. Used their reploids to build dozens of small, hidden underground bases all over the world before making his big comeback. After that, he had all the resources he needed any time he felt like stirring something up again."

"Back when I was just a boy," Simon said quietly. "And now here we are, and I've become an old man... and you're still here, X, the same as ever."

"Not the same." X stared at the projector. "Like you keep saying, I just passed up my sixty-seventh birthday. I've grown old, too, Simon. I just don't look it."

"Are you really?" Simon asked, a trace of irony entering his voice. "Yes, you've seen more than sixty years, but you _are_ still an android, X. No matter how old you get, you'll never die from age, like all humans eventually do."

"That's not much of a tradeoff when you consider how many reploids actually reach my age," X reminded him. "By reploid standards, I'm not old, Simon. I'm biblical. A reploid's an old man if he gets to the double digits. You should have seen Hazil; he'd have been before your time too, but his hair turned gray in his first year."

"Didn't he ship in with Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill?" Simon recalled. "This is just a guess here, but I'm wondering if maybe the First Uprising might have had something to do with his gray hair. I get your point, though. How many on base are there, from back in those days? Not the First, of course, but... let's say Repliforce. How many remember Repliforce?"

"If there's more than half a dozen, I don't know them." X shook his head. "It's a tradeoff, Simon. We don't die of old age... but the chances of that being relevant are about the same as you'd get for the Super Lotto, even outside of the Hunters."

"_Just as the reprogrammed Robot Masters known colloquially as the 'Wilybots' were the predecessors of the Mavericks, so did the Robot Masters as a whole precede the reploids. The first robots ever built who could, in some cases, pass for humans, Robot Masters were meant to bridge the gap between robot and human. For the most part, they were a failed attempt; while more intelligent than any before them, the majority of Robot Masters were not truly sentient, though certain creations of Dr. Light and Dr. Wily were said to be exceptions. If so, it could be said that the difference between Robot Masters and reploids was the guarantee, rather than the slim possibility, of sentience..._"

"There you go," Simon said, slapping his knee. "Robot Masters. Now there's a term you don't hear very often, in this day and age. What about the Robot Masters, huh? Any of them still around? Boy, the stories _they'd_ have to tell, huh?"

"Most of them were destroyed in the War of 2090, last I heard." X shook his head. "The only ones I've ever heard of still being active were Cossack's, and as far as I know, they were among the victims of Eurasia's fall." He shook his head in disgust. "God, this is depressing the hell out of me. In the old days, me and Zero, and maybe a couple of the other guys, would go find a couple of bottles of something expensive and alcoholic to kill."

"So then, why don't you?" Simon asked curiously. "Sure, I don't drink, but I can't be the only one who's up at this hour."

"It's not the same," X told him sadly. "Not without Zero. Never was. Now I just sit up at three AM watching the history channel with one of the only other geezers in this building who still remembers the first half of the century, before I go out and give my annual speech tomorrow. I'm old, Simon. We're both old."

Neither of them spoke much after that. They remained silent, watching the show, alone in the darkness. Two old men, one biological and one mechanical, with nothing to do but killing time until the next sunrise.

**June 4th, 2184, 3:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"So, what's it like in the outside world, these days?" Margravine asked as she and Viscount strolled through the streets of the hidden city. The lights set in the cavern's roof far, far overhead had dimmed with the late hour; there was no practical reason for them to be set to correspond with the cycle of day and night outside, but Baron had claimed that it would help the citizens feel more like people than things, and most of the reploids had agreed.

Most of said citizens were in stasis, corresponding to the observation, retiring to their mass dormitories. Of course, like in any human city, there were still a few who preferred the night hours, and some whose work required it. The difference, of course, was that those who stayed up by inclination did so by nature rather than personality, whether they were Awakened or not. All four of the city's Shade Men, for example, were unanimously nocturnal.

"You didn't do the research." Viscount gave his partner a dry glance, both of them waving to one of the Shade Men as they walked past. "You _never_ do the research. I thought I was supposed to be the lazy one."

"Why should I, when I've got you to do it for me?" She pointed out. "Besides, it gives you something to talk about, and I know how much you love to talk."

"Guilty as charged," Viscount admitted. "At any rate, it's basically the same as the last time we went out. Not much has changed since Eurasia fell."

"Still?" Margravine made a face. "It's been almost thirty years."

"It's not exactly the sort of thing a planet recovers from." Viscount rolled his eyes. As much as he loved his partner, there were times when her flightiness ground on her nerves. Which was, of course, why she did it, the same reason he often exaggerated his own flippancy. "Or society, for that matter. A few more deaths, a little more paranoia, a bit less hope. And things continue as before, as everybody waits for the next disaster. Those who don't forget that there's _always_ a next disaster, anyways."

"That's wonderful, but when I asked, I meant to inquire as to what would actually be _relevant_ to us," Margravine said dryly as they moved into District Five, which was under Earl's oversight. "How are we going to do this?"

"Standard procedure still applies." Viscount shrugged. "Attempt to do it legally, if possible. If that doesn't work, we'll get a couple more months up there until the owner forgets about us, and then we do it the other way."

"I _like_ the other way." Margravine grinned.

"You really shouldn't," Viscount admonished her.

"_You _like the other way, too."

"Yes, but I am eccentric, carefree, and flamboyant," Viscount told her dramatically. "Not to mention overly excitable, but only at the worst possible times. Honestly, you really shouldn't associate with me as much as you do. I'll corrupt you, at this rate."

"You?" Margravine glanced at him slyly as they approached their destination, the massive complex of garages that constituted at least a quarter of the District. "Corrupt me? That's a good one. Heads up, by the way."

"Hm?" Viscount turned ahead, only for something metallic to nail him right in the forehead with a resounding clang.

"_That_ was for being dramatic," the reploid standing in the door of the open garage said smugly, leaning against the side of it with his arms crossed. Short and burly, Earl looked like any other bad-tempered grease monkey; he even had an actual beard, rather than the metal variant most reploids preferred, as black and bristly as the hair on his head. His black wifebeater showed off the impressive, if artificial, musculature of his upper torso, and like the two of them, he wore jeans and cowboy boots. "Not that I heard what you were babbling about. I just always assume you're being dramatic. You know, as a general rule."

"What you mean, of course, is that you always assume Viscount deserves a wrench upside the head," Margravine added.

"Like I just said." Earl snorted.

"Why me, then?" Viscount muttered, picking the wrench back up off the ground and sending it spinning towards Earl's cranium. "Why not Margravine?"

"Because." Earl smirked, catching it easily. "She's a _girl_."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Margravine asked lightly. "Did you just say, 'please set me on fire at your earliest convenience?' Why, Earl, of _course_ I will! You didn't even have to ask!"

"Not now." Viscount put a hand on her shoulder. "As much as I would enjoy seeing that myself at this moment, we _are_ here on business. We're going outside, Earl. Prince's orders."

"What do you think I'm still up for?" Earl snorted. "Been waiting for your lazy asses to get over here for hours now, ever since he told me. Does it take you two _that_ long to make out?"

"Was that a request for a demonstration?" Viscount shifted his hand, wrapping his arm around Margravine's side. "We'd be all too happy to oblige."

"In detail," Margravine agreed, shooting Earl a smirk. "With running description."

"Do it, and I get out the gunship," Earl said flatly. "Bad enough that that's going on at all. I don't need to _see_ it. _Nobody_ needs to see that."

"Then why don't we get our rides and get out of here, huh?" Margravine suggested. "So you can go to sleep, and we can get to work."

"Logic, from you freaks?" Earl scoffed, turning away. "Now I _know_ I've been up too late. Come on, they're in here." As they followed him into the garage, he kept talking. "So why were you _really_ so late, huh? Don't give me that crap."

"The Turbomen were playing." Viscount shrugged. "There was an encore. I didn't even know the citizenry knew what those _were_."

"Seriously?" Earl raised an eyebrow. "Neither did I. Damn. Okay, so you actually had a good excuse for goofing off. For once." Despite the wide range in their personalities, and the habitual conflicts that arose because of them, all of Mecha's native reploids shared an interest in the mental development of the citizenry. "How'd the Turbomen take it?"

"They seemed a bit surprised, but after a moment, they went along with it." Margravine smiled brightly, a more cheerful thing than her usual sly smirks, and Viscount was reminded-not that he needed it-of why the two of them had taken their relationship beyond the professional, despite the disapproval of most of their comrades. "I'm proud of them, you know? The Turbomen, I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, you rock, we know," Earl grumbled, but it didn't sound like his heart was in it. "I got a new guy in here today. Just Awakened earlier this week. Name's Marco. Get this; he's a _Pirate Man_."

"Are you quite serious?" Viscount asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's the first one of that model to Awaken. His Majesty has to be happy about that one."

"Is there something I'm missing?" Margravine looked from one of them to another, frowning slightly. "What's the big deal about Pirate Men?"

"One of them was one of his Majesty's subordinates, during the Ninth Robot Rebellion," Viscount explained.

"Ohhhhhhh." Margravine's eyes lit up. "All right, then, that _is_ pretty cool."

"Glad you think so." Earl drew a tarp off of a pair of Ridechaser hovercycles. "Means you're thinking, period. All right, these here are a couple of Adion AHU-D600 Hornets. Good on any surface up to a forty-degree incline. Fifty if you really want to push it, but don't, or next time you'll be _eating_ the wrench, both of you. Works on water, too, as long as you stay over twenty MPH, not that that'll be a problem with you two."

"Hornet," Margravine said speculatively. "Weren't those an illegally modified model? Used by Repliforce, if I remember right."

"Were they, now?" Viscount blinked. "Huh. A real classic, then?"

"And we don't have too many of them, so if they come back with a _scratch_, I'm ramming your heads together and seeing who cracks first," Earl threatened, though there was no bite in it; he was too busy looking at the bikes with pride. "Yeah, these were Repliforce issue. Managed to get my hands on some surplus after the Uprising on one of my trips up, back in '30. Most Adion models can only go up to a hundred-fifty MPH safely, but these babies'll do two hundred without breaking a sweat. With the turbo, that's two-fifty, but _don't_ disable the safeties on that, or I'll be the last thing you have to worry about. Literally."

"This may be difficult for you to believe, but we do actually like _not_ exploding." Viscount drawled. "I hope this doesn't sound ungrateful, but if we're trying to be inconspicuous, are a couple antiques really the best idea?"

"You'll be going with the same cover story you always do, right?" Earl said, giving him a look. "Antique collectors. So riding these babies will _help_ your story, not hurt it. Prince's idea."

"Should have known." Margravine ran a hand over the front of one. "What's the armament like?"

"Standard Ridechaser, for the most part." Earl shrugged. "There's not that much you can do with them without screwing up the design. Plasma cannon in the nose and cutter on the underside. Not that you'll have to use them, if all goes well."

"Still, best to be prepared," Viscount said, climbing onto one as Margravine did the same with the other. "We'll see you when we get back, then."

"Remember, one scratch!" Earl yelled as they took off.

"I wonder if reploids can suffer from medical issues due to high blood pressure," Margravine commented as they sped through the streets at a comfortable, though not extreme, speed; they knew the layout of the city by instinct, but even the best Landchasers were notoriously bad at turns. "Do you think we should schedule him an appointment with the doc?"

"I think if that was a thing that happened, the doc would be more at risk than Earl," Viscount pointed out. "By far the grumpiest man I've ever met, human or reploid."

"Point," Margravine agreed. "One of them told me once that his hair wasn't always gray. How do you suppose _that_ happened? On a _reploid_?"

"He just changed the pigment on his follicle coloration program." Viscount shrugged. "I suppose he felt it was justified."

"Can you _do _that?" Margravine demanded. "Could _we_ do that?"

"Easily," Viscount replied as they reached First Street, slowing to a snail's pace in order to turn their bikes; the one downside of hovercycles was their maneuverability, and even Earl hadn't been able to do much with the Ride Chaser models, which were even worse than most. Once they had them pointed towards the edge of the city, they sped up again. "Why? Don't tell me you're thinking about a change, after all these years."

"Actually, I was going to suggest one for you," Margravine retorted as they sped past silent buildings. "You _do_ kind of stand out, you know."

"Unfortunately for your sensibilities, I rather like it, myself," Viscount said smugly. "I'm not quite sure _why_ our creator chose to give me alone a color not naturally found in humans, but I applaud his design sense."

"Or his drunkenness," Margravine quipped. "No, wait, he got off the bottle before he built us. So much for an explanation for your anomalous nature."

"I prefer inexplicability anyways," he told her as they reached the city limits. There, at the end of First Street, were a pair of massive steel doors, the only access point to Mecha. Parking their bikes and dismounting, he and Margravine walked over to a panel set into the side of the cavern wall next to them, standing before it until the scanner finished running its checks on their identities, a process which seemed to take longer every time.

"Reploids Viscount and Margravine," the electronic voice of the computer connected to the panel and doors said eventually. "You are cleared for departure."

"Oh, really?" Margravine murmured as the doors opened, revealing the freight elevator inside. "How lucky for us. I was worried there'd been a mistake."

"You really shouldn't do that, you know," Viscount told her lightly. Walking their bikes inside, they waited calmly as the doors closed again, and the steel box began making its long journey upward. "It's just a computer. You're not even going to be able to confuse it by talking to it like it's an actual being."

"No, but it usually gets a good reaction out of people." Margravine shot him a smirk, which he returned.

"Well," he conceded. "I suppose I can't argue _that_."

"Besides, you never know," she continued, staring up at the ceiling. "Look at us. Two hundred years ago, who would have ever seriously believed in the possibility of completely sentient robots, as intelligent as any human?"

"Yes, yes, I know." Viscount cut her off, rolling his eyes. "'All things strive.' I'm still not entirely sure about that. Yes, Robot Masters clearly have the potential, but anything below them? I'll believe it when I see it."

"Maybe someday, we will," Margravine murmured as the doors opened on the area of Japan that was now known as the Sacred Plains. Nearly a century had passed now since Mt. Fuji's eruption, and the volcanic residue had been covered with soil and grass and even flowers, but the country still remembered the tragedy, the loss of life. The Sacred Plains were holy land now, a monument to Old Tokyo and all those who had lived and died there. Inviolable, and uninhabited... the perfect place to bury a secret from all the world. "All right, where are we headed?"

"Not just yet," Viscount cautioned. "Remember? No warping in or out within fifty miles of Mecha."

"Oh, come on," Margravine scoffed. "Nobody's going to pick us up. If they were going to pick us up, they'd have to have been watching this place already. Not likely."

"_Or_ where we're headed," Viscount corrected her. "At which point, they could trace our warp signals all the way back here, and in one fell swoop, we'd be compromised. I don't know who would be doing that, or why, but even the slightest potential possibility is totally unacceptable. Remember our motto."

"Yeah, yeah." Margravine sighed. "'Leave a whisper.' All right, let's get moving. The sooner we're far enough away, the sooner we can get where we're actually going." The two of them jumped back onto their hovercycles and powered them up again, this time pushing them to their true capabilities. "Where was he again? I forget."

"North of Berlin," Viscount said, rolling his eyes. "There's a wealthy eccentric who's still living out in isolation, even with the world in such a state. A true misanthrope, apparently, of the classical school. Our cover identities are already set up. We'll ride into town, call him up, and arrange a meeting as soon as possible."

"How do we know he won't just tell us where to stick it?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

"His finances are running out," Viscount explained. "He's quite elderly; perhaps he didn't count on living for as long as he did. Our expense account is as generous as usual, so we should be able to offer him enough for the Guts Man to keep him talking."

"Perfect." Margravine smiled. "Yes, we should be able to handle this easily. And to make matters better, we have a ride under a beautiful night sky to enjoy."

"I thought you wanted to just hurry up and get on with it?" Viscount asked mischievously.

"That was then," Margravine replied, smile widening as the wind blew her hair back. "And this is now."

**June 4th, 2184, 11:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Go away, ma," Mega Man X muttered under his breath as somebody banged on the door of his quarters. "I'll just skip school today." Despite his nerves, he'd dragged himself back to bed before sunrise, and forced himself to get some stasis anyways. Most reploids used a mechanical capsule for that purpose, but the option to switch it out for an actual bed was available to any Hunter who requested it, and X was one of the few who felt more comfortable that way.

"It's eleven o' clock, X," a familiar, female voice shouted from the other side of the door, and he smiled despite himself. "Everybody's waiting for you."

"But I don't want to!" He deliberately let a plaintive whine enter his voice. "I don't feel good!" Several moments of silence passed before the interloper spoke again.

"X," she said, calmly and patiently. "Either you get out here in the next ten seconds, or I'm coming in _there_. And if my reputation suffers because of that..."

"Coming!" X practically launched himself out of bed. With a moment's thought, he activated his internal warp generator, switching out the boxers and t-shirt he was wearing with his sleek, formfitting blue metal armor. Reaching up to adjust the round blue helmet atop his head, he winced; whenever he wore it, the synthskin covering the bright red control crystal set in his forehead retracted, so that it was set in the fore of the helmet. These days, despite how illogical it was, he'd swear he could _feel_ that happening, every time. It was probably psychosomatic, but it still gave him a headache.

"Nine," the woman on the other side counted down. "Eight. Seven. Six."

"Enough, already." X groused, opening the door and glaring at the reploid waiting for him on the other side, a datapad in her hand. "That was uncalled for."

"It worked, didn't it?" Alia replied with a slight smile. Blue-eyed and blond-haired, she was wearing her armor as well, though in her case the heavy pink and white metal only covered her upper torso and arms, in addition to the knee-length boots. Between those and her ribcage, her armor came with a sleek black covering that wasn't _quite_ skintight; X wasn't sure just what it was, and had never asked, though he hoped it wasn't spandex. Instead of a helmet, she wore an innocuous-looking headset that was capable of providing her with a frightening amount of data at a moment's notice.

Like Simon, Alia was a staff member rather than an actual hunter. As Head Navigator, a position she'd eventually claimed both due to over thirty years of service and because of her proficient skills, she led those officers tasked with providing the Hunters information in the field and keeping an eye out for incoming threats. Most navigators weren't assigned to permanent partners, but Alia was an exception; she'd worked with X for almost all of her career, and by now was practically his personal assistant, though bringing that up to _either_ of their faces-or worse, suggesting that their relationship was anything other than professional-was considered to be suicide by both staff and Hunters.

"It was still a low blow." X shook his head, but started to walk down the hall, and Alia followed him. "All right, what's gone wrong today so far?"

"The worst situation is probably in the ruins of Washington DC," Alia said smoothly; she probably wasn't even using her headset. "A sizable force of Mavericks has moved in and attempted to claim it for some new nation of theirs. I doubt it's Sigma, before you ask; they're not quite _that_ well-equipped. Still, there are several dozen actual Mavericks with a couple hundred warbot drones at their command. And to make matters worse, they've somehow managed to get their hands on a Rogumer-class aerial assault carrier."

"Wonderful." X sighed. "Who'd Signas send to deal with it, then? I assume he already did."

"That would be correct," Alia agreed. "Commander Signas deployed Delta Force to handle the situation."

"Good." X nodded. "That's who I'd have chosen for something that big myself. Those Units know what they're doing. What else? It's almost noon, so that can't have been the only thing that's come up so far."

"There's another incident going on in Cairo," Alia reported. "Not quite as severe, which is fortunate since it's still inhabited, and it's incipient rather than ongoing; we managed to spot the incoming force in time to deploy the appropriate Unit by hovercraft."

"Hovercraft?" X frowned. "Not warping? That must be Mutt Unit, then."

"Correct again," Alia said. "Pitbull requested that assignment personally. They'll be engaging within the hour. The other disturbances are all minor; the 6th, 8th, 11th and 19th have all been sent out."

"Good." X frowned thoughtfully; something was nagging at him. "Washington D.C., and Cairo... is there any trouble going on in Moscow, Riyadh or Rio?"  
>"Nothing so far," Alia said, sounding puzzled. "Why?"<p>

"Keep an eye on those places in particular." X told her. "If any one of the three comes under attack as well, notify me immediately. It's probably a coincidence, but D.C. and Cairo were two of the five targets of 'Sigma's Sixth', and you know how he loves referencing his own history."

"I'll tell my people to check in on those other three, then," Alia agreed. "Honestly, though? I think you're right. It's a coincidence. All you'll have to worry about today is your speech."

"As if that's not enough to worry about." X rolled his eyes. "Remind me. Why exactly did I ever agree to give a yearly speech on this day in the first place?"

"Because it gave you an excuse to stay on base, with your Unit," Alia told him. "In case Sigma _does_ show. So that you and the 17th will be ready to go at any moment, rather than being caught off guard while putting out fires."

"I still don't like it." X scowled. "As much as I hate being a Hunter, it's what I should be doing, today of all days."

"I know you don't." Alia put a hand on his shoulder, and they both stopped walking for a moment. "But we do have other Hunters, you know. And the other Units aren't the part-timers they used to be, these days. They can handle anything short of Sigma himself, but you and the 17th are the only ones who can do that. Even the 00 Unit isn't the same. Lassiter tries his best, but..."

"But he's no Zero." X slowly nodded. "You're right, of course. I just... you know."

"Yes, I do," Alia admitted. "I wish I'd had more time to get to know him."

"I wish he'd had more time, period." X sighed, and they started walking again. "But the past is the past, and we have the present to deal with. Do you have my speech?"

"I stopped by your office and picked it up." Alia nodded, walking by his side rather than slightly behind him now. "I'll feed you your lines, as usual."

"Thanks." X smiled briefly as they approached the front lobby. "Is there going to be anybody unexpected there today, or just the usual suspects?"

"The usual, for the most part," Alia said, frowning slightly. "The only surprise guest is Foreign Minister Merton, from Britain. Simon's doing his best to deal with him, but..."

"But he'll probably come looking for me sometime today," X finished for her, groaning. "This day just keeps looking better and better. Merton's ex-GDC. That'll teach me to open my big mouth. I don't suppose there's any chance he'll go after Signas instead? He _is_ the Commanding Officer."

"It's possible, but I wouldn't bet on it." Alia shook her head. "I'd prepare for the worst."

"Probably." X squared his shoulders, looking out the front door to the crowds gathered in front of the building. "All right, I'm heading out there. Wish me luck."

"Try not to die," Alia joked, keeping a straight face. "This will be a dangerous mission."

"Can't be worse than Sigma." X rolled his eyes, walking out.

"And here he is now, ladies and gentlemen!" A familiar voice shouted, as excited as if X had been a rock star. "First of the reploids, finest of the Hunters, Mega Man X! Come on, let's welcome him on stage, huh?" A fair amount of cheering from the crowd gathered below the front steps accompanied that request, and X fought the urge to roll his eyes as he walked forward to join the cheerful-looking reploid in the slightly boxy-looking green and beige armor currently holding the mic.

"How's it looking, Douglas?" He asked quietly.

"Well, hate to break this to you, X, but being late didn't really help," Douglas, Chief Mechanic of the MHHQ, commented dryly. At the moment, the variable goggles built into his helmet had their blue lenses on, making him look even more like a harmless, cheerful grease monkey than normal. This was, of course, misleading; Douglas had never killed a Maverick himself to X's knowledge, but the machinery he maintained had helped the Hunters in their duties for decades now. "I've had to bullshit them for five minutes now. Good thing you got out here; they were starting to get tired of it."

"Well, I'll take over from here," X told him, smiling slightly. "You can go back to polishing your hubcabs and threading your screws." Douglas' reputation as a ladykiller was possibly the greatest among all the residents of the building, much to the amusement of his friends.

"I hope they riot on you," Douglas retorted, but he was smiling as well. "Good luck, X."  
>"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting," X said to the crowd, turning the mic back on as Douglas walked away. "My name is Mega Man X, and though legal precedent frowns on robotic lifeforms holding a surname, I am the last surviving son of Dr. Thomas Light. I am, however, not a reploid. Reploids are replicate androids, created from my design by my adopted father, Dr. James Cain. To be more accurate, I am the prototype for the reploid race, in addition to being the senior surviving Maverick Hunter, having held the rank of Captain of the 17th unit for sixty-five years."<p>

"Mavericks, as you all know, are reploids who have turned against both humanity and their own kind through violent means," he continued, as Alia read him his lines through the voice connection she normally used to provide him intelligence in the field. "Whether they are infected by the Virus, transformed into insane shells of their former selves, or consciously make the decision to take terrorist action, they are our enemies, and the enemies of all who live. It has been the duty of the Maverick Hunters, ever since the birth of the reploids, to counter their actions and execute them for their crimes."

"Sixty-six years ago to the day, Sigma, our own Commander and our greatest Hunter, turned against us on his self-proclaimed 'Maverick Independence Day.' and launched the First Maverick Uprising. Infecting the 1st Unit he personally commanded, he led them against first the Hunters and then the rest of New Tokyo in an all-out assault, which he intended to follow with a war on humanity. However, while his rebellion was still in its initial stages, the Hunters struck back, crushing the First Maverick Uprising in a conflict which..." He stopped, frowning, as a hand shot up in the crowd. "Yes?"

"Captain X, you said the Hunters stopped Sigma," the reporter who'd raised his hand asked respectfully; news organizations the world over had long ago learned that unruly or rude behavior towards the Hunters was an extremely bad idea. "Wouldn't it be more accurate to say _you _stopped him? Single-handedly, as I recall?"

"Your recollection is incorrect," X told him coldly. "I was the only _survivor _of the First Maverick Uprising. A large number of the 17th Unit, including their then-Commander Zero Omega, lived through Sigma's initial strike on MHHQ, only to lose their lives in the ensuing conflict. I'd appreciate it if you didn't demean their sacrifice any further." As the chagrined reporter pulled his own mic back in, he continued. "As I was saying, the conflict ended in the battle at Hokkaido, where we thought the threat of Sigma was put to rest forever. Unfortunately, that was not the case."

"Over the years, the Hunters have faced more than a dozen Maverick Uprisings personally led by Sigma in addition to other Maverick activity, less expansive but no less dangerous. Each and every time, we have triumphed in the end. Though the life of a Hunter is usually short and violent, we make that choice willingly, so that others can live in peace. Especially now, in today's world, ours is a duty that must be done." He frowned, reminding himself to talk to Simon about that particular phrase later.

"Originally, the Maverick Hunters were a GDC-subsidized organization, partially funded and partially controlled by the global government. However, when the GDC began to lose its stability, its interest in the Hunters began to deteriorate as well. Because of this, when Sigma launched a global Viral strike at the same time that he initiated the fall of the space colony Eurasia twenty-nine years ago, the Hunters were caught unprepared, underfunded and unequipped. It was our greatest failure, one we have sworn to never repeat, no matter what we must do to prevent it."

"Because of this, following one final and unsuccessful attempt to entreat the GDC for support, the Hunters made the reluctant decision to secure funding from alternative measures. In Eurasia's wake, the nation of Japan was as shattered as the rest of the world, and the government sorely required assistance. Local businesses were just as eager for any protection available against the encroaching chaos. And so, the Hunters became a national organization, and the protection of our homeland became our foremost priority." He sighed as another hand shot up. "Your question?"

"Mega Man, isn't-" The reporter started to say.

"My name is _X,_" he growled, almost automatically, cutting him off. "Mega Man was my brother, and he was a far greater hero than I ever will be, though he never asked to be, and never considered himself one."

"Yes, well." The reporter coughed awkwardly before continuing. "Weren't the Hunters founded on the principle of protecting the world from the Maverick threat? And if so, isn't it true that your current policy of protecting Japan first, and the rest of the world second, could be construed as a betrayal of that principle?"

"There comes a point where idealism must give way to pragmatism, especially in our post-Eurasia world," X retorted. "Had we not made that change in policy, the Hunters would likely have gone bankrupt and ceased to exist entirely years ago, leaving Sigma unchallenged in his bids for global domination. More importantly, because of this change in policy, the Hunters are now stronger than ever before. 'Weekend Hunters' and part-timers are a thing of the past. Every single Unit under this roof is comprised of seasoned veterans, all experienced and highly talented."

"But haven't there been several instances of international conflict over your policy?" The reporter persisted. "Other nations who resent the fact that they're officially considered a secondary priority now?"

"Any conflict present has been wildly exaggerated," X said firmly, fighting a twinge of shame at the slight lie. "As I was saying, because we have grown stronger, one could even make the case that the Hunters are even more efficient at our jobs than we were before. Only on rare occasions have foreign nations refused the Hunters access, and every time, that resistance has been swiftly overturned." He allowed his voice to take on a sardonic tone. "For some reason, seeing the alternatives firsthand on their front lawn always seems to give people a new appreciation for what we do."

"So what you're saying is, you have the nations of the world over a barrel," the reporter replied, looking smug now. "As the only thing standing between them and Sigma, you enforce your own self-dictated policies with the threat of leaving them to the wolves should they disagree. It's your way or the highway, as the saying goes."

"Sir, I am beginning to suspect that the Hunters have managed to personally offend you somehow," X kept his voice dry, despite his growing anger; now he knew why Cain had always been so grumpy. How Simon managed to stay so cheerful, he would never know. "If you would prefer to do without our services, we will be happy to accommodate you. Simply leave your name and address with us, and the Maverick Hunters will refrain from bothering you ever again. If you ask nicely, maybe I'll even request that Sigma make a personal call on you, the next time I see him, as a favor to the old firm." He waited a moment, taking in the now-stunned crowd, before continuing. "That was a joke."

A nervous laugh rippled through the onlookers, as the white-faced reporter withdrew his mic, completely silent.

"_I wish you could see the look on Signas' face right now_," Alia commented. "_It might almost make up for how much he's going to tear into you later on for that one_."

"No good deed goes unpunished," X muttered under his breath before she returned to reading him his lines. "At any rate... currently, the Hunters stand at full capacity, thirty Units strong. Even now, as we speak, wildfires around the world are being extinguished as we do our duty. As we always have, and always will. So long as a single Maverick remains to threaten the humans, so long as Sigma refuses to give up the ghost, we will always be here to restore the peace."

"The damage has been done by Eurasia's fall. Though the Hunters were able to destroy the satellite and thus mitigate the worst of it, the remaining debris still altered the balance of the world's ecology, seemingly pushing it over the final edge that we have held back for more than a century now, ever since the Third World War. Environmental damage increases at a continual pace. Every year, more and more of the world is slowly but steadily eroded away. The nations of the past exist in name only, giving way to enclosed city-states on what little land remains habitable."

"But we still live. We survive, human and reploid both. We have seen the apocalypse come, and we have turned it away. We can't go back to where we were before Eurasia. We can only move forward, carving out the future one step at a time. And so long as there is a future to be made... so long as there is still hope... so there will also be the Maverick Hunters. My name is Mega Man X, and though I am the final creation of Dr. Light, in this building, I am just one more Hunter, like any other. Thank you for coming, and have a nice day."

More reporters started to buzz as X turned around, but he ignored them; he'd had enough of the press for the day. As he calmly walked back towards the front doors, however, one voice quickly grew louder, along with approaching footsteps behind him.

"X! Damn it, X, wait!"

"Foreign Minister Merton," X said, covering a sigh. "Won't you come inside?"

"All right, but only to get away from that rabble," the sour-looking old man grumbled as they walked in together. Once the doors had closed behind him, he turned towards X. "Wonderful speech out there, X. I particularly liked the part where you responded to that man's entirely justified point with a blatant threat."

"It was a _joke_, Minister." X rolled his eyes; he'd met the official several times before, enough to realize that being polite would be a waste of time and effort. "I had a speech to give, and he obviously didn't intend to shut up any time soon. So I helped him with that."

"And by doing so, brushed past his questioning of your Hunters' hypocrisy," Merton snapped. "Well, I'm not some poor newsie you can just give the old flex-and-frown to, X. What are you doing about the global threat, eh? What happened to defending the world?"

"Four Units have already been dispatched to foreign nations already," X replied calmly. "Three to Washington D.C., and one to Cairo, in response to Maverick threats. If and when any others surface, we will respond immediately to those as well.

"Just as long as there's still enough of you left to defend Japan, you mean?" Merton shot back. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing here, X! These annual speeches of yours are nothing more than an excuse for you and the 17th to hold yourselves back in case something happens on _your _turf today! And as for your oh-so-generous 'assistance' to the rest of us poor survivors, forgive me if my appreciation is slightly mitigated by how much your government wrings out of us on the negotiating table in exchange for your 'help!'"

"I don't know anything about that, I'm afraid," X said quietly, though he felt a quick pang of guilt; if the Japanese government _was _using their unity with the Hunters to strong-arm other nations, Merton's anger wasn't entirely unfounded. "I'm not a government official, Merton, and the Hunters have no part in the decisions or actions of the Japanese nation. So far, they have yet to intrude on our policy in regards to other nations, and we've always returned the favor."

"You're telling me that you Hunters have absolutely no influence on the Japanese government's decisions?" Merton sneered. "And you expect me to believe that?"

"Only in regards to national security," X replied, feeling his momentary headache from earlier start to return. "To be honest, Foreign Minister, if the opportunity to gain that influence was offered to us, I'd advise Signas to decline. The Hunters, despite our government ties, are an independent organization. We _shouldn't_ have any place in dictating international policy. That way lies the mistakes of the past, one thing we have always avoided repeating. If you have issues with how the government is conducting negotiations, take it up with them. It's not our fault, and it's not our problem."

"Isn't that what they all say." Merton's eyes narrowed. "You're just a soldier, is that it, X? Do your duty, pop off your Buster, save the day and come home to a cold one? Ha! You can talk about that until your face turns as blue as the rest of you, but I know better! The nation of Japan? It's more like the nation of the Maverick Hunters, these days! And every time we have no choice but to turn to you, your influence on the world grows! How much longer until you start expanding? Until we have two, and then four, and then who knows how many more Hunter-controlled nations?"

"If you're that worried about us, Foreign Minister, the same alternative exists to you as that-" X started to snarl, temper fraying.

"That's enough, X!" A deep voice cut him off, and they both turned their heads, startled. A massive, black-and-white-armored figure stood ramrod-straight in one of the doorways leading further into the MHHQ, frowning deeply. Every inch the model soldier right off the recruiting poster, his helmet even designed in the shape of a commissar's cap, rows of lights in his chest giving off the impression of numerous medals, Commanding Officer Signas regarded X with cold disapproval. "What, exactly, do you think you're doing?"

"I..." X started to respond hotly, before trailing off as his common sense caught up to him. After a moment, he turned back to the old man, face blank. "I apologize, Foreign Minister. My temper got the better of me."

"Hmph." Merton sniffed, crossing his arms. "I'm sure. Well, if you're expecting me to apologize as well, you'll be waiting a long time. The facts are the facts."

"That will not be necessary, Foreign Minister," Signas replied, voice still chilly. "The Captain of the 17th Unit was out of line. X, consider yourself confined to quarters for the rest of the day. Foreign Minister, if you'll accompany me, we can conclude this discussion."

"Sir, yes sir," X muttered, as Merton began looking from one of them to the other suspiciously. Before the penny dropped, he walked away towards another of the hallways, by which Alia was loitering inconspicuously. As he reached her, she started walking with him.

"That's not going to be the end of this, you know," she said dryly. "You're not getting off that easily."

"Yeah, I know." X sighed. "Signas just wanted to get me out of there before I made matters worse, so he could deal with Merton. I'll really get put through the wringer later on, once he's got time for it. I guess I kind of deserve it."

"You do have a temper, these days," Alia said, smiling slightly. "You didn't when we first met. One of the consequences of old age, perhaps?"

"Maybe," X replied, thinking back to when he'd been younger. Back then, he never would have snapped like that, but somebody else would have. Somebody who'd always been there to do that when it was necessary, whether it was appropriate or not. "Or maybe it just rubbed off from somebody."

"X?" Alia asked, looking concerned now.

"Nothing." He rubbed his face. "Listen, Alia. I changed my mind. Sitting around here is getting to me. Signas won't let me off base for the rest of today, but do you think you could find something for me to do tomorrow? Something that's not just the usual nine to five. Something different."

"I'll see what I can do," she promised. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He waved it off. "It's just... waiting. It seems like all I ever do these days is wait. You understand."

"I do," she agreed quietly; she'd been with him for more Uprisings than anybody else still at the MHHQ, save for Signas himself. She understood, even if she'd never been on the front lines herself. "I'll try and find something."

"Thanks." He nodded as they reached the door to his quarters. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"At least you'll be able to catch up on your sleep." She smiled again as she kept walking.

"Yeah, yeah." Raising a hand, he walked inside and sighed. "Back to watching the news."

**June 4th, 2184 3:00 PM **

**The Hilton, Berlin **

"This is the first time we've been to Berlin," Margravine said, standing by the window of their hotel room and looking out over the city. "It's nicer than I thought it would be."

"Have you been getting your historical periods mixed up again?" Viscount asked dryly from the bed, where he was lying with his arms folded behind his head. "Berlin has been fairly nice for nearly two centuries now."

"I meant because of Eurasia," she explained. "Things _haven't_ been so nice because of that. Everywhere."

"Oh." Viscount nodded. "I suppose you have a point, then. Yes, they seem to be doing fairly well for themselves here. I imagine the outer limits of the country aren't quite so pleasant, from what we saw on our way in, though."

Once they'd reached the coast of Japan, they'd warped to a position in the middle of Germany. Both places had been consumed by the devastation wrought by Eurasia's fall, which had been more than slightly depressing, though reaching Berlin had cheered them up. They'd found the Hilton fairly quickly, where reservations in the names of their cover identities had already been set up, and checked in without a fuss, confirming that said identities were working. Not that that was a surprise, but it was best to be careful, all the same; overconfidence inevitably led to failure.

"Probably not," Margravine conceded, closing the curtains and turning away from the window. "Makes me wonder how our target lives out there. Even if his home is habitable out in that, it can't be pleasant."

"Perhaps he's simply that dedicated to his misanthropy," Viscount suggested. "On that note, shall we make the call?"

"Yes, let's get that out of the way before it grows any later," she agreed, as the two of them walked over to the room's computer. "Do you want to take the lead, or shall I?"

"An antisocial, isolated, elderly, wealthy curmudgeon?" Viscount said, sitting down and calling the number they'd been given. "I'll give you two to one odds he's misogynistic as well."

"Probably," she agreed, making a face before draping herself over his shoulders. "Very well, then." They waited in silence as the communication went through, until after several moments, a sour-looking old man's face popped up on the projector.

"Yes?" He demanded. "What is it? Make it quick, I don't appreciate having my time wasted. This had better be good."

"Mister Grevan," Viscount said smoothly. "My name is Julian Lee, and my partner is Fiona Flores. To be brief, we deal in antique technology, and word has come to us that you're in possession of a rather unique piece. We're interested in purchasing it."

"I've got a lot of antiques," Grevan replied, belligerence giving way to a more guarded tone now. "You'll have to be more specific."

"A DLN004 Guts Man model," Viscount replied, as their smiles both widened in the darkness of the room. It was cheap theatrics, he knew, but it had worked enough times in the past for both of them to be familiar with the routine by now. "An active one."

"Somebody's been talking too much for their own good," Grevan groused. "You two know how to sniff out what you want, I'll give you that much. All right, I'll hear you out, but you'd better be as rich as you act. I'm not letting this thing go cheaply."

"I assure you, Mister Grevan, we'll be able to afford it," Viscount replied. "I take it you'd prefer to conduct the negotiations in person. Where can we meet?"

"If you managed to get this number, you know where I live," the old man shot back. "I'm not coming into the city. You want this thing, you can damn well come out here. I'll expect you bright and early. Seven AM. And if that's too much trouble for you, you can damn well find yourselves somebody else who's selling."

"We'll be there," Viscount assured him, and with a grunt, the old man cut the connection. Leaning back, he dropped his smile as Margravine let go of him. "Well. 'This thing,' is it? It seems we've come not a moment too soon."

"That does seem to be the case," she said, shaking her head. "I hate it when that happens." Stepping away, she stretched before glancing over her shoulder at him with a smile. "At any rate, it looks like we've got some time to kill. Any ideas?"

"Why don't we go out and see a little more of just how well Berlin is doing these days?" He suggested lightly, standing up.

"Why don't we?" She repeated, taking his hand as they walked towards the door.

For those activated and educated within Mecha, the outside world was a source of endless interest. The younger ones, in particular, were perpetually fascinated by the society which had indirectly given birth to their own. With their armor off, they were able to pass for humans, and took full advantage of that, pretending to be nothing more than a normal couple in town on business who were enjoying the local nightlife.

The next morning, after a few hours of stasis, they took their Ride Chasers back out of the city the way they'd came in and headed south, towards the coordinates they'd been given. Soon, they were back in the endless wasteland, but they continued onward, trusting in their seniors' research to find the right location. As they reached the mountains, the wastes began to slowly give way to a slightly more pleasant environment. It was there, nestled in a secluded valley, that they found the cabin they were looking for.

"It seems remarkably well-maintained," Viscount noted as they approached, slowing their bikes. "Think one old man would be able to keep it in shape this nicely, all by himself?"

"Doubtful." Margravine shook her head. "I'd suspect the Guts Man would be responsible for most of it, but if he's willing to sell it, there must be something else."

On cue, a beam of indigo light plummeted from the sky and materialized into a robotic canine the size of a truck, its metal hide gleaming and its eyes focused on them.

"Shit!" Swearing, Margravine and Viscount both put on the brakes, turning their bikes to the side to assist with the deceleration; it was fortunate that they'd already slowed down from their earlier speed.

"HALT AND IDENTIFY," the ancient robot growled, tensing itself to spring, though that was misleading; the model's main method of attack was not through using its size or its sharp fangs, but rather a flamethrower installed in its mouth.

"Julian Lee," Viscount replied, staring at it openly; he'd read about these before, but it was his first time actually seeing one.

"Fiona Flores," Margravine added, just as stunned.

"PERMISSION GRANTED," the robot said, relaxing. "LEAVE YOUR VEHICLES AND PROCEED. THIS UNIT WILL WATCH TO ENSURE NO HARM COMES TO THEM."

"You'd better," Margravine replied, half-joking and half-threatening, as they parked their bikes and climbed off. Proceeding towards the cabin on foot, she lowered her voice. "Was that what I think it was?"

"A Lighttech HD-490." Viscount nodded slowly. "More colloquially known as a 'Hot Dog.' It seems our hermit has _quite _the collection."

"Glad you appreciate it," Grevan replied loudly as he stepped out from the front door, scowling just as darkly as he had on the call. "It's not the only piece of security I've got around here either, so don't get any ideas."

"Mister Grevan, I am shocked," Viscount said smoothly, as they both raised their hands. "Miss Flores and I are businessmen, not petty thieves. We have come here in order to _purchase _one of your antiques, legally and honestly, not to _steal _it."

"What do you take us for?" Margravine added, looking dramatically offended.

"Humans." Grevan snorted. "Which means you're almost as untrustworthy as reploids, by default, in my book. Let's get one thing straight. I don't like people, and I especially don't like visitors. The only reason you're here is because I'm starting to run low on money, and I'm starting to get sick of this thing's face anyways. Once we conclude our sale, I don't expect to see either of you back here ever again. Do we have an understanding?"

"And an agreement, as well," Viscount replied, both of them smiling again; people like this always amused him, for some reason, and he was fairly sure Margravine felt the same way. "Before we start discussing the exact numbers, however, we'd like to take a look at the Robot Master in question ourselves."

"Figured you would." Grevan stepped aside, and a lumbering hulk followed him out. By the standards of Robot Masters, most of which were only four feet tall, a Guts Man was a giant at six, with shoulders almost as wide. Covered in massive black and red armor, with a construction helmet on his head and a lantern jaw, they were one of the strongest Robot Masters ever designed, even many years after their construction as one of Lighttech's first mass-produced models. "Well?"

"He _looks _like he's in perfect shape," Margravine said, raising an eyebrow. "Does he have a name?"

"Don't be stupid." Grevan snorted. "It's a robot. What, are you going to tell me you named your bikes?"

"An interesting suggestion," she replied. "All right, then. Guts Man, state the Three Laws."

"First Law. A robot must not harm, or through inaction allow harm to come to a human," the Guts Man rumbled, its voice identical to all its kind. "Second Law. A robot must obey a human unless doing so comes into conflict with the First Law. Third Law. A robot must act to preserve its own existence, unless doing so comes into conflict with the First and/or Second Laws."

"Core module is intact and perfectly functioning," she noted. "How long have you been in service to Mister Grevan, Guts Man?"

"I have served Master Grevan for twenty years now," the Guts Man told her, voice still flat and emotionless.

"And before that?" She pressed.

"Data not found," the Robot Master said after a moment.

"You wiped his memory?" Viscount asked Grevan, deliberately keeping his voice calm, which was harder than usual.

"It didn't need to remember anything from before I inherited it," Grevan replied harshly. "All it needed to know was that it belonged to me now. That's why I kept it around in the first place; it could do everything for me that a human or a reploid could, but it wasn't one, so it wouldn't get on my nerves the way people do. That's what I thought, at least, but after twenty years I'm starting to wonder. You done checking its intelligence yet?"

"A little underdeveloped, but that's to be expected," Margravine said clinically. "His mind does seem to be in working order. We can see about making up for lost time after our purchase."

"Then it seems all that remains is to talk money." Viscount rubbed his hands together. "I'm assuming you'd prefer payment in U.S. Dollars?" Even now, more than a century since that form of currency had ceased to be dominant in world affairs, many people preferred it, especially in private transactions.

"Damn straight." Grevan nodded. "And before you get any ideas, I'll tell you right now, I'm not accepting a cent less than a hundred grand. If that's out of your price range, you can just hope right back on those bikes of yours and head right back out the way you came in."

"A hundred grand?" Viscount feigned surprise; he'd actually been expecting to have to bargain the old man down a lot more, but he wasn't going to complain. "Is that all? Shall we skip the tedious negotiations and agree on two, then? I'd love to barter all day, but since it seems you're not going to invite us inside, and you certainly aren't enjoying our company, cutting to the chase seems ideal."

"Not so fast." Grevan's eyes narrowed cunningly. "That was just a minimum baseline. If you're agreeing to double it that fast, maybe this thing's worth a lot more than I thought. Just how much _are_ you willing to pay for it?"

"A very interesting question," a new voice agreed loudly. "I do believe we'd like to know the answer to that as well, so we know just what we're working with." Instantly, both Viscount and Margravine spun around, but nobody was in sight.

"Where?" Viscount asked, reaching inside his duster but not drawing just yet.

"Up there!" Margravine pointed above them, at the mountains surrounding the valley on both sides. Numerous humanoid figures were standing there, surrounding them, along with a multitude of drone robots, none of which looked pleasant.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Grevan demanded. "And what are you doing on my property?"

"Get inside, Mister Grevan," Viscount told him quietly, casually stepping between him and the newcomers on the right, as Margravine did the same with those on the left. "I somehow doubt these gentleman have friendly intentions."

"Screw that!" Grevan shouted. "I want answers!"

"And it would be highly uncharitable of us to refuse that of our host, now wouldn't it?" The one who'd spoken before replied whimsically, his choice of words contrasting with his brutish tone. He was a humanoid reploid, at least in theory, but his massive build and facial features bore a stronger resemblance to a some sort of ape. "Permit me to introduce myself, then. My name is Garm, and I and my fellows are here on behalf of the New Maverick Nation."

"Mavericks," Viscount snarled, silently berating himself; he and Margravine hadn't picked up any traces of company on their way over, but that was no excuse. "You followed us here?"

"After the snoop we placed on the Hilton picked up that _very _interesting call the other day." Garm chuckled. "Figured we could kill two birds with one stone, once we did the research. This place is perfect for setting up a nice, hidden little outpost for the NMN where nobody'll ever come looking. And if you two are rolling in _that_ much dough, then surely you won't mind contributing it to our cause, after a little persuasion."

"Mister Grevan, _please _go inside," Margravine hissed, as the old man swelled up in anger. "We'll handle this. Guts Man, go with him. Protect him from any threats."

"Unacceptable," the Guts Man said after a moment's thought. "First Law override. I must not allow harm to come to _any _humans through inaction, including yourselves."

"Damn!" Viscount snarled. For a moment, he almost admitted that they were reploids, before remembering just how disastrous doing so in front of Grevan would be; Mecha's secrecy came first, before anything else, and the situation was bad enough in that regard as it was. "Very well then. Mister Grevan, if you would be so kind as to _go inside _and activate the rest of your defenses?" The Hot Dog was growling up at the Mavericks, but it hadn't yet attacked.

"Fine!" Grevan snarled, but his blustering didn't quite hide how pale he'd gone once the Mavericks had identified themselves. Turning, he quickly walked back inside, glancing at the robotic dog as he went. "HD-490! Destroy!"

"ACKNOWLEDGED," the Hot Dog roared before raising its head and belching a stream of fire up towards Garm.

"You wish!" The brutish Maverick sneered, jumping over the flames and coming down towards the robot. As he descended, spikes sprouted from his massive fists, and he brought both down upon the Hot Dog's head in a hammerblow, crushing its skull. "Your ancient slag is worthless, old man! We Mavericks are the future of reploidkind, and you humans are just as obsolete as these junkers!"

"This promises to be marginally unpleasant," Viscount muttered to Margravine, who nodded silently.

**June 5th, 2184, 2:05 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"How are they doing?" Alia asked as she quietly entered the observation booth, stepping up to X's side at the controls.

"Better than I expected, but worse than I hoped," he replied clinically, watching as the Hunters of his own 17th Unit worked their way through the holographic course in one of the Base's many training rooms. Every 'mission' in the computer's database was based on actual history; there had certainly been enough of them. So far, in today's run, six of the thirty Hunters were down; they'd all be doing time in the medical bay afterward, as would the other twelve who'd taken wounds, even if they were still going.

"Ah, the optimist's answer," she said dryly, looking at the readouts. "The 17th usually does better than this, don't they? What do you have them running?"

"Sigma's Sixth," X said calmly, deliberately underplaying it.

"Can you be more specific than..." She started to say, before trailing off as the light dawned. "_All of it_? At once?"

"Bingo." X nodded. "Hardly fair, but then the Mavericks don't exactly play by the rules, either. Plus, I wanted to test the base's computer. See if it could handle running five different simulations in the same room at once. Looks like it can."

"'Hardly fair' is an understatement," she told him, frowning. "Six of them for each one, then? That's not even close to what the Hunters threw at those attacks."

"To what we threw at three of them," X corrected her. "We were only able to field a single actual Hunter in Cairo. One of mine, assisted by three consultants. And we had to call in outside help for Moscow."

"Those four were _not _your average Hunters, from what I recall." Alia shook her head. "And I have no comment on Moscow. All I'm saying is that you might be pushing the 17th a little too hard. They're already the best the Hunters have, with the possible exception of the 00, and that's arguable. Isn't that enough?"

"No." X stared ahead, unblinking. "It's not. I thought it was on the night of Sigma's Sixth, and I lost most of my Unit then. Zero thought it was during the First Uprising, and by the end of it I was the only actual Hunter who survived. There's no such thing as good enough. As long as there's room for improvement, they need to be working towards it."

"What are the parameters, then?" Alia glanced at the readouts again. "It can't be total failure on a single loss, or else it would have cut out already."

"Only if one of the five missions is failed," X explained. "As long as all five teams are still active, even if there's only one man standing, it'll keep going. If any of the missions are a loss, though, it'll shut down and record it as a loss for the Unit. If we'd screwed up on any of the five back then..." He paused for a moment. "Well. Eurasia aside, it still would have been unacceptable. Anyways, they're doing good in Cairo, Rio and Moscow, but Riyadh and DC aren't going too well at the moment. The latter's not surprising, but I'm a little disappointed in the former."

"And will you show them how it's done, if they do botch it?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"In all five at once?" X chuckled. "That might be a little tricky, even for me."

"Hilarious," she deadpanned. "You know what I mean."

"If I joined them in DC, I'd probably be able to make enough of a difference to get them through it," he admitted, thinking back to the actual night, when he'd gone one-on-one with one of Sigma's most dangerous lieutenants before taking down the Maverick Emperor himself, though of course that hadn't lasted. "But that would still leave Riyadh, and it's possible Rio could start going the other way as well. The 17th needs to be better. I need them to be better. The world needs them to be better."

"Better?" Alia raised an eyebrow. "By that, of course, you mean an anti-Sigma Unit. You've been training them specifically to counter Uprisings for decades now."

"And it's been working," X added. "The last two times, they saved a lot of lives, and barely lost any of their own. Compared to Sigma's Sixth..." He trailed off, shaking his head at the thought of how two-thirds of the 17th had been lost in one fell swoop thanks to a mistake he'd made, and a trap set by Sigma. "Things aren't the same any more."

"Things aren't the same for any of us," Alia agreed clinically. "I'm not disagreeing with you, but I have to wonder how much good it's really going to do, in the long run. No matter what happens, or how well we do, every year things get harder and harder. We're fighting the end of the world, X, and it's a losing battle."

"That's no reason to..." He started to reply, before pausing; thinking about what she'd said. After a moment, he spoke again. "What happened? Where was it?"

"Shanghai," she told him. "Another seaquake. A bad one, this time. Half the city was lost, and the other half has suffered significant damage. It's doubtful that what remains will be able to sustain itself independently."

"Shit." X closed his eyes; no matter how much death and destruction he saw, that much sheer loss of life would never cease to disturb him. "I wondered why Signas hadn't called me into his office to tell me off for yesterday already."

"He's been in talks with government officials over how Japan is going to respond to this all day," Alia confirmed. "Nobody's seen him."

"And once again, I am reminded of how happy I am that he does it rather than me," X commented, but his heart wasn't in it. On cue, the last of the Hunters running the Riyadh course went down, and with him the entire simulation, recording it as a failure for the Unit. Closing his eyes, X sighed, but said nothing further.

"Are you going to go down there?" Alia asked after a moment.

"What's the point?" He replied, shaking his head. "I need to get out of here. All this is getting to me. Did you find me anything like I asked yesterday?"

"I've been looking, but nothing's come up that's out of the ordinary." Alia frowned. "Things cooled off around 10 PM last night, and it's been pretty calm since... wait. Something's coming in. Germany's forwarding a distress call to us. They're claiming it's Maverick activity, likely too strong for them to deal with by themselves. We've already been given permission to take care of the situation."

"Any details?" X asked quickly.

"Some isolated place up in the mountains," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "A hermit who collects ancient technology. He's the one who placed the distress call in the first place. It looks like he's the only... no, wait. Apparently a couple of tourists are up there too. He's saying they were going to buy something from him..." Her eyes widened. "A Robot Master. Intact and fully functional. One of Lighttech's. A Guts Man model."

"I didn't even know any of those still existed," X murmured, thinking back to his conversation with Simon the other night. "A Guts Man... one of the first ones. One of my father's." After a moment more, he nodded and turned away from the projector. "I'm going. Do we have any idea how strong the enemy are?"

"Apparently, it's the same clowns who Delta Force ran out of D.C. yesterday," Alia said, making a face. "The New Maverick Nation. It seems they weren't committing all of their forces to that. I'll head down to the war room and see if I can get anything more by the time you arrive."

"Thanks." X smiled briefly before flicking on the communicator to the training room. "All right, those of you who can still walk help the ones who can't down to the medical bay. Arvis, you're in charge. I've got something in Berlin to take care of; we'll talk about how this went when I get back." Switching it back off again, he shot Alia a brief smile. "Wish me luck."

"Implying you need it," she retorted, smiling as well. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Until then," he replied, before activating his personal teleportation device, and vanishing into the air in a streak of blue light.

And in another place deep beneath the earth, only miles away yet worlds apart, a ghost of the past whispered in the ear of a silent king, telling him of how the hands on the clock of fate were turning once more.


	3. Chapter 2: Visiting The Graveyard

_**Chapter 2: Visiting The Graveyard **_

**May 24th, 2089, 10:00 AM **

**Ruins of Tokyo **

"I see you're up and about," King greeted Corbun as he walked into the room they were using as their shared office for the moment. It had been one back when the Robot Museum was still operational, and they'd quickly cleared all the old records out to be steadily replaced with their own, as they continued their work. For the moment, it was mostly maps and charts, plans for reclamation and construction. "And earlier than usual, even."

"How can you even tell, down here?" Corbun glanced over his shoulder, sitting at his desk. "I'm almost tempted to move up our plans just so I can get out of here and see the sun once more."

"Emphasis on the 'almost,' I hope," King replied dryly, still standing in the doorway. Now that they were out of the public eye, he'd taken to wearing his bulky orange armor again, though he left the massive helmet and green cape off, and didn't bother carrying around his shield or ax. Still, even with his head bare, it removed any visual possibility of passing for a human; while at matching height, unusual for his kind, he was clearly a robot master. "You know better than that."

"I also know that _you _have a better sense of humor than _that_," Corbun shot back. "Besides, we _are _ahead of schedule. I'm sure it's as much a novelty for you as for me that everything actually seems to be going better than expected. We should be able to have the northern sector completely excavated by the end of the week, and once we're able to do a complete assessment, we'll be able to get started on the buildings. Which, I might add, are in far better condition than we feared, which is to say that most of them are still standing."

They'd come to the buried city three months ago, once they'd finished building enough drone robots to serve their purposes there. King had supervised the tunneling into the ruins and the excavation projects that had opened up the first streets and buildings; only once there was actual space to walk and the toxic gases in the air had been replaced with an oxygen supply had Corbun come down to join him, weeks later. Ever since, the two of them had worked tirelessly, directing their robots from the old Robot Museum, the first building they'd cleared and found to be completely intact internally.

"I've been thinking about that, actually," King told him. "You're right. We're doing better than we planned. Which means that we've reached the point where I believe we should start waking them."

"I've been wondering when you were going to broach that subject," Corbun said with a sigh. "You're right, of course. It's simply going to change things around here."

"Life is change," King replied, shrugging. "Stagnation is for the dead."

"Somehow, I doubt that's ever going to make the top ten list of world philosophies." Corbun rolled his eyes, but stood up; his blueprints for a newer, more efficient mining robot would wait. "Well then. If it's time, let's get to it, shall we? No point in putting it off if we've made up our minds."

"I was hoping you'd say that." King smiled briefly; it still looked awkward, even though he'd been slowly increasing the frequency with which he did it. His life before he'd met Corbun hadn't given him much to smile about. Turning as his friend left the office, he walked with him down the hall, as spotless and well-lit as it had been during the Robot Museum's glory days; only the lack of people and the dark windows betrayed the reality of its current location. "I must confess, I feel a certain amount of trepidation about what we are about to do, despite how much I have anticipated it."

"That's only natural, really," Corbun assured him. "Emotions are funny like that. They don't always make sense. Sometimes what you look forward to most is what scares you the most, at the same time. It's just the way things work."

"Perhaps," King conceded. "But such things are not frequent for me. I am unused to doubts, or anything resembling them."

"You're a warrior," Corbun pointed out. "Your worldview tends to be straightforward. It's the way you were designed, and educated."

"Indeed." King shook his head. "All the better to make me a suitable dupe for my father. I considered myself to be perfect in every way, until everything I believed came crashing down around my ears, and Mega Man and Bass showed me just how wrong I had been about everything. That was the first time I ever felt doubt." He scratched his chin. "And yet... I still find it difficult to question my own course of action, despite all that."

"Well, perhaps there are worse thing in a king," Corbun said as they turned and entered the room where they'd moved all of the Robot Masters within the museum. They hadn't been quite ready to activate them yet when they'd first come, but neither had they wanted to leave them on display in the museum's main hall, and so King had carried each and every one to a side room, where they'd laid them out on tables like patients awaiting surgery. Looking them over, the doctor glanced at his partner, who was closing the door behind them. "Any preference on the first one up?"

"A Lighttech model, I think," King said, dimming the lights in the room. "It seems fitting."

"The Guts Man, then?" Corbun suggested, and when the other man nodded, he walked over and proceeded to begin activating the sleeping giant for what was probably the first time. Neither of them spoke once the startup process had began; in a certain sense, they were awakening a new life, if not actually creating it. They simply watched, in dim light and silence, as the prone Robot Master's systems began to function, and his eyes slowly opened.

"Greetings," it said slowly, voice guttural. "I am a Lighttech 'Guts Man' model Robot Master, serial number DLN004-935. How may I serve you?"

"Rise," King instructed him, and the Robot Master did so, face blank of emotion save for an eager glint hidden within his eyes. "Your systems are fully intact and functional?"

"There are no errors detected," the Guts Man replied. "May I ask a question?"

"Speak," King told him.

"Are you a human, or are you a Robot Master?" The Guts Man said bluntly. "My optical sensors are detecting the latter, but my internal database has no record of a model of Robot Master matching your description."

"That is because I was never mass-produced," King explained, eyes shining with a strange sense of pride now. "I am King, by name and by nature, of the Robot Masters, and of our hidden home deep beneath the earth. From this day forward, you will no longer answer to DLN004-935. Your name is 'Alexander,' and you are the first citizen of this city to awaken. A city without humans. A city of Robot Masters."

"I do not understand," Alexander said after a moment, turning to look at Corbun. "You are human, are you not?"

"I am," Corbun conceded. "Trenton Corbun's the name. And if all goes according to plan, I'll be the only human to ever set foot in this city ever again. In time, you will understand why this is. You'll assist us in the construction and maintenance of this city, along with other Robot Masters, and possibly even accompany us when we leave here in order to bring back more of your kind. For now, however, you'll need to educate yourself further. There is a computer terminal you will be able to access in the room directly across from this one. It's not online, but it should have most of the information you require."

"Understood." Alexander bowed slightly before turning away.

"I was hoping he'd be a _little _less... well, mechanical," King murmured under his breath as their new companion left.

"About what I was expecting." Corbun shrugged. "Give him time. He'll get better. Why 'Alexander,' though?"

"The original 'Guts Man' model that Rock Light killed in the First Robot Rebellion bore the nickname, 'Heracles,'" King explained. "I can only hope that the name of another ancient hero brings more luck to our new friend than that one did to its bearer."

**June 5th, 2184, 7:15 AM **

**Outskirts of Berlin **

"Here they come," Viscount told Margravine tersely as half a dozen Mavericks jumped down from the cliffs overhead, arms raised over their heads and grins savage. "Stay behind me until they bring out the plasma."

"I know," she said irritably, drawing back; as much as she hated it, her rather unorthodox weapons systems were designed to counterattack, as opposed to his, which were meant for quick kills. It was part of why they worked so well together, but it still irritated her slightly to have to hang back at first, every time.

"Take 'em down!" Garm ordered, as more robotic defenses began dropping out of the sky or rising from the roof of the house. "Don't kill 'em just yet, but go ahead and break a few bones so they don't get any ideas about running away!"

"Your terms are unacceptable," the Guts Man growled, starting to walk forward, only to stop as Viscount extended an arm to block his path, palm open. "Sir, please-"

"That won't be necessary," Viscount said coolly. "We're not humans, my friend. We're reploids, both of us. Now do us a favor and stand guard in front of the door, will you? Don't try and engage them unless you have to, but make sure they don't get inside to your former employer." Before the Robot Master could respond, one of the Mavericks rushed them. A tall, lanky female modeled after some kind of bird, she cackled insanely as she plucked a pair of flat, diagonal metal blades from the fan of her tail and brought one down towards Viscount's arm.

"Scream for me, pretty boy!" She exulted.

"I think not," Viscount murmured, activating his own weapons systems. The synthskin on the undersides of his fingers and thumbs parted, revealing the razor-sharp edges concealed beneath, and with one swift movement, he sliced through her left wrist even as he stepped around her. As she screamed in shock, pain and anger, he continued the movement, spun gracefully around behind her and brought his other hand up around her throat. Before she could react, he tightened his grip and severed her neck.

"What?" The Guts Man stammered, staring at him, and at the Maverick's head spilling from his fingers. "You're..."

"Get going!" Margravine yelled at him. "Guard the door, like he said! We know how to take care of shit like this!"

"What the hell?" Another of the Mavericks yelled as Viscount stepped away from the corpse, allowing it to fall forward; they'd taken out all the robotic defenses in short order, save for those actually attached to the house. "He got Skulla!"

"That's not a human!" Garm bellowed. "Everybody, stay away from him! Those of you with Busters, blow them both away!"

"I believe that would be your cue," Viscount said, glancing over his shoulder, as three of the other Mavericks down in the canyon began opening fire with their busters, plasma bullets flying through the air, as did several of those still up top.

"And it's about time, too," Margravine agreed, dashing between him and standing before the incoming hail of death, hands out. Like the synthskin over the undersides of his fingers, that covering her palms opened up at her command, revealing the metallic red spheres concealed within them. As the bullets reached her, they distorted in the air for a moment before being drawn into her palms almost magnetically, vanishing into her systems without so much as scratching her.

"Are you kidding me?" The closest Maverick shouted, his eyes widening as Viscount stepped around her and ran forward. Snarling, the reploid extended a set of long metal claws from his wrist gauntlets and charged, raising one arm overhead for a devastating blow. Viscount was faster, though; darting forward under it, he ripped the Maverick's stomach open, stepped around him, and reached around over his head as he landed to shred his face.

"My turn," Margravine said, grinning, as she charged another Maverick. Startled, he fired his buster again, but once more she simply caught the plasma in her hands, redirecting it through specially designed circuit pathways inside her own body guided and protected by internal electromagnetic fields. Many reploids had such designs built into their armor, but as far as she knew, she was the only one to have it contained within her own body. It was a rush she never got bored with, the feel of the plasma being routed around within her, circulating and amplifying until it was needed.

The Maverick flinched as she reached him, and she shot him a smile as she sprang forward, finally releasing the now vastly-amplified plasma she'd absorbed as she dived on him. More personal EM fields were generated, one covering her body and clothes like a second skin, the other mimicking its shape roughly six inches further out. Between the two, she released the stored plasma, creating a field of glowing energy around herself. It would only remain stable for a few seconds, and any movements from her aside from momentum would break it, but so long as she used it correctly, it was incredibly powerful.

The Maverick didn't even have the chance to scream as the plasma spilled over him, disintegrating him completely.

"Kay! Perrin!" The last of the buster-toting Mavericks on the ground level shouted as she dropped the field; even a few seconds had nearly depleted her stores.

"Stay back, Mar!" One of the other two yelled, glancing at the other, before both of them drew beam sabers. Red and blue plasma crackling, they charged, one to each of them. "Let's see how you assholes like this one!"

"No, you imbeciles!" Garm bellowed. "Don't!"

Smirking, Margravine simply rammed one hand onto the blade, from the end down, and absorbed it entirely, continuing to do so even as it automatically generated more. Tempting as it was to push, that, however, she knew that the Maverick likely had more tricks up his sleeve, and so she grabbed him by the neck with her other hand before activating her field again, destroying the entire upper half of his body.

"And the reward for stupidest death goes to..." Viscount drawled, raising his hand to catch the other Maverick's saber and hissing in pain as it burned through the synthskin on his fingers. "Damn, damn, _damn, _that stings!" The Maverick sneered, continuing to bear down on him, but again Viscount stepped around it, almost like he was dancing. Shorn of their skin, his fingers were fully revealed now; curved, miniature sickle-blades of plasma-deflective titanitefloalloy, completely immune to the beam saber's bite.

Blocking the Maverick's next swing with his other hand, he sliced through the Maverick's wrist and sent the blade flying away, still clutched in the severed hand. As his enemy stumbled back, howling, he lunged forward with arms crossed and finished the job with a sweep of both hands that left the enemy in pieces that exploded behind him.

"Sorry, boys," Margravine said, closing the ground between the last of the six and frontflipping into the air towards him. "You're out of your league." Extending her feet, she brought up her plasma field as she descended, and though he crossed his arms before him in a desperate attempt at a defense, it did him little good. Burning a hole straight through both his arms and his chest, she landed behind him and glanced over at Garm, who'd watched the fight in grim silence. "Well, big man? Ready to see if you're any better than your goons?"

"What do we do, Garm?" One of the other six still up top called down, sounding worried. "Who _are _these guys?"

"That _does _seem to be the operative question," Garm replied, narrowing his eyes and making no move to attack. "A pity that we probably aren't ever going to find the answer. They're right. We've been underestimating them. Being stupid. Losing those six didn't cost us much-they were useless anyways-but screwing up the mission's an entirely different story." He twitched his head upwards. "Send the drones towards the house. Blow it sky-high."

"Shit!" Margravine snarled, realizing that they'd underestimated him right back; despite his brutish appearance, the enemy leader was far from stupid. At his command, the flying drones began heading towards the house, opening fire on those automated defenses still remaining. Though the turrets on the roof fired back, they were clearly outclassed, and other drones were jumping down and running forward. The Guts Man was clearly ready for them, but he wouldn't stand a chance against so many, their technology nearly a hundred years ahead of his.

Viscount didn't even need to say anything; he simply glanced at her, and with a reluctant nod, she turned back towards the house with him and ran towards the horde. As suicidal as she knew it was, they couldn't just let the Robot Master die, or worse, succumb to mind freeze if the death of his owner caused a First Law override. Despite that, she still kept an eye on the enemy above them, as did Viscount, and no shots came their way as soon as they turned their backs.

The Guts Man had already engaged the landborne drones, and was actually doing a surprisingly good job; relying on his defensive capabilities, which had been more durable than average in his time, he'd chosen to simply rush the enemies, pick them up bodily and hurl them at the flying ones. Even though his aim was lousy, he still managed to hit a few, and the drones he threw seldom got back up after their landing whether they hit anything or not.

Unfortunately, a century of progress was simply too much to be overcome even with unusual ingenuity for his model. By the time Margravine and Viscount ripped through the rest of the landbound drones and reached him, he'd already taken enough hits to bring him to his knees, though he was still far from helpless; when one last humanoid drone with blades for hands approached to finish him off, he beat it to the punch, literally, crushing its chest with one strong blow.

"Hey, big guy!" Margravine yelled, running towards him. "Give us a boost!" Without waiting for a response, she jumped towards him, and the Robot Master caught her in one hand before tossing her onto the roof with less force than he had the drones, allowing her to land safely. Even better, she took out a couple of drones on the way, as did Viscount when he followed her flight a moment later.

Unfortunately, that was when her luck ran out. With a bang, a magrifle round tore through her shoulder, and she lurched to the side, just in time to take a metal blade across her back as a flying drone swooped down. Snarling, she used up the last of her stored plasma and burned it out of the sky before it could get away, but there were still at least a dozen more flying around, out of both their reach. Glancing over and seeing the Maverick with the gun taking aim again, she lurched to the side, but still took the shot through her arm, and skidded across the roof, bleeding heavily.

Snarling curses under his breath, Viscount ran towards her, only to take several plasma shots in the back and fall to his face, smoking.

"That's got 'em!" One of the Mavericks up top hooted. "Nice shooting, Recker!"

"I keep telling you guys, busters can't solve every problem," the one with the magrifle said, chuckling. "That's why you learn how to use these babies."

"Next time, we bring our armor with us," Viscount murmured under his breath.

"If there _is _a next time," Margravine whispered back. "Screw this. I say we grab the Guts Man and warp out. Leave the old guy. We tried harder than he deserves."

"I wish," he hissed. "Unfortunately, I doubt we'd make it. And besides, even if we did, he'd be able to figure out we were leaving the buzzard to die, and there's a fifty percent chance the First Law would kick in."

"So then what do we do?" She snarled; her systems had sealed off the wounded area, and the loss of her internal operations energy had halted at seventy-four percent, but even if she got back up, their chances of winning the fight at this moment were minimal.

And then a streak of blue light descended from the heavens, materializing upon landing into the most famous Maverick Hunter in the world.

"_Oh, shit_," everybody except the Guts Man said in perfect unison.

**June 5th, 2184, 2:20 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"At present, there are ten million reported dead, and half that number injured," the Navigator on the other end of the line said tersely. "Total number of refugees is currently estimated at eight million and climbing."

"Is there any hope at all that Shanghai can be restored to a habitable state?" Signas, Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, asked quietly but firmly.

"None." The Navigator shook her head. She was one of Alia's, a fifteen-year veteran of the Hunters, and of the last two Maverick Uprisings, if one could even call them that; Sigma had been going through the motions ever since Eurasia's fall, and everybody who'd been with the Hunters for longer than that knew it. "More than half the city has collapsed completely into the ocean, and what remains is already beginning to give way to the wasteland. It's estimated that, in a worst-case scenario, everything might be under the sand in as few as six months."

"How is the government of Shanghai responding?" Signas continued, keeping his face blank; he already had a fairly good guess, but he needed to be sure.

""Rather frantically," the tech replied, a trace of sarcasm starting to creep into her voice as she continued. "They've made calls to every city-state on this half of the globe, trying to find somebody who'll agree to a merger and take the refugees in. Japan's one of them, but negotiations are still ongoing. It seems our elected officials are no slouches when there's blood in the water. They're trying to marginalize how much power Shanghai's former government will have once it's incorporated into ours as much as they possibly can before they agree to anything."

"Leeches." Signas scowled. "People are _dying _out there, by the minute, and all they care about is how much blood they can draw. Well, that's enough of that. It looks like it's up to me to start this ball rolling. Have Captain Karnack take the 25th down to the docks and start commandeering every vessel capable of carrying large numbers of refugees as possible, and begin bringing them here from Shanghai immediately. Tell him to say that I am personally promising full citizenship to each and every one of them."

"The big shots won't like that when they hear about it, sir," the tech warned him, though it looking as if she was struggling to hide a smile.

"Our popularity with the government is of a decidedly secondary priority right now," Signas said coldly. "This planet is no longer capable of indulging their games, yet they persist nonetheless, and every time they do, my patience is eroded a little bit more. If necessary, I'll remind them that the Maverick Hunters are fully capable of enforcing martial law over the entire region, and that while I have no desire to become a tyrant, I can and I will if they force me to. The choice is entirely up to them."

"That should shut them up, sir." She gave up on fighting the smirk. "I'll relay that to Captain Karnack immediately. One last question, though, since I know Karnack will ask. Should any priority be placed on either humans or reploids?" She said it calmly, but that simple question made Signas' artificial blood run cold all the same. It was something he'd been dreading, and he hovered for a moment in silent indecision before answering.

"No. The elderly and young should come first, but tell Karnack not to prioritize based on species."

"Understood." She nodded. "Donia out."

Clasping his hands and leaning back in his chair, Signas stared up at the ceiling and wondered if his decision had been the correct one. Reploids could be, and were, built much more quickly and frequently than humans could reproduce, especially in the post-Eurasia world. Population numbers across the world were already tilted in favor of reploids, Japan even moreso than most. Species conflicts were still widespread, which was why Signas had chosen the path he hoped was least likely to provoke a reaction from either side, but even so...

_I've been doubting myself more than usual recently, _he mused. _Much more than I did when I was younger, even after Zero knocked some sense into me. _Was it old age, he wondered, or simply increased responsibility? The Maverick Hunters had always been the only force protecting the world from Sigma's infinite madness, but saving lives through means other than taking them was a different thing, and one that was even more stressful, if possible. It made Signas feel his age, upwards of five decades now, despite the eternal youth of his synthesized features.

_I wanted to lead, but I never wanted to rule_, he thought, recalling the long-ago day when he'd first come to the MHHQ, assigned by the Global Defense Council to succeed Dr. James Cain, following the death of the Hunters' founder and leader. _A naïve imbecile with the personality of a brick, and almost as much understanding of what they still call the human condition._ But he'd learned, and learned fast at that, helped along by the brutal scorn of the legendary Crimson Hunter who'd led the Special 00 Unit back in those days. And yet, the more he learned about the world, the more Signas occasionally questioned his own decisions.

The thought of Zero prompted a surge of guilt, as Signas remembered what he still considered to be his greatest failure. In the aftermath of Eurasia's fall, he'd sent X and Zero out to deal with Sigma in the hidden lair from where he'd launched his most devastating outbreak of the Maverick Virus yet. That disaster had ended up infecting a total of seventy-eight percent of the world's reploid population, including more than two-thirds of the Hunters, most of them the part-timers and weekend warriors.

Two Hunters had left on that fateful day, but only X returned, brought back to base bearing what should have been fatal injuries, kept alive by some unknown agency. He'd never spoken of what had happened down there, but Signas knew enough to connect at least some of the dots, especially those concerning Zero's mysterious past, and his personal connection with the Maverick Virus that had been revealed during that conflict.

Lifesaver had warned him, but he'd ignored the concerns of the Hunters' Chief Medical Officer and sent Zero out anyways, unwilling to restrict the actions of the Hunters' finest warrior. And because he had, because of his mistake, Zero had perished there, in the crypt Sigma had built for the three of them. And Signas knew, had known from the moment the cleanup crew had reported that no remnants of the Crimson Hunter's body had been found, whose fault that was.

Not X, who'd done everything he could to save his friend and brother. Not Lifesaver, who'd simply done his duty the only way he knew how, without bias or opinion. Not even Sigma, who was nothing more than a mad dog by now, mindlessly savaging anything and everything he laid eyes upon. It was him, Signas, who could have, should have held Zero back and saved his life.

He had let the greatest of the Maverick Hunters die, and no matter what else he did, no matter how many other lives he was able to save, it would never be enough to atone for that failure.

Spinning his chair around, he gazed up at the framed portrait hanging on the wall behind his desk, and wondered if his predecessor had ever felt like this. Dr. James Cain had been an old man already when he'd founded the Hunters in order to combat the threat posed by renegade members of the species he'd helped to create. Nevertheless, he'd done more for them than any other living soul, even among the Hunters themselves, in the last two decades of his life.

It had been more than half a century since an aneurysm had done what no Maverick had ever been able to, but Cain's influence on the Hunters remained. Even those too young to have known him spoke in hushed, almost reverential tones whenever the subject of James Cain was raised; the honor guard maintained on his grave behind the building, even more than fifty years later, spoke louder than words about what sort of response even the slightest disrespect would garner.

Signas knew that he was a capable, hopefully even an admirable Commanding Officer, but he was also aware that through no fault of his own, he would always be second best. Part of his growth from a GDC lapdog to an actual leader had involved that realization. The portrait was the only thing he'd added to the office, and nothing had been taken away; everything else remained exactly as it had been in Cain's time, and it always would, so long as he was there.

Spurred by that thought, he turned back to the desk, and to the one part of the room he'd wager that even X didn't know about. It had been a day like any other, about a decade after he'd taken up his position, when he'd discovered the secret compartment in the desk, and what it contained. It was another, more minor, shame of his that he'd kept the secret instead of turning its contents over to X or Zero, but for some reason he maintained an illogical fascination with what he'd found there.

It was a holocube, programmed to display a three-dimensional image from each of its five sides minus the base whenever the appropriate button was pressed. The one on the top showed a pretty, intellectual-looking young woman; Cain's wife, who had died years before he'd discovered X. Signas had always ignored that one after his first look, deciding immediately that that was a level of intrusion he wasn't willing to repeat. The other sides were the ones that continued to draw his interest.

One showed X, in suit and tie with his hair neatly combed, the picture of sober logic and reason, as he prepared to defend the very existence of his species before the GDC in the World Trial of 2124. The next was a reploid Signas had never met, a cheerful-looking fellow in yellow and black. Cancer, the first reploid ever built, who'd been killed in the First Maverick Uprising. He was mugging shamelessly, making a v with one hand while mashing a cream pie in the face of some anonymous victim with the other.

The third side was deactivated, but Signas had poked at the device a little, and discovered that whatever image it held was still loaded into it. He hadn't turned it back on; he had a strong hunch who it would be, and didn't want to confirm it. The fourth showed Zero, in casual jeans and t-shirt seated on a bar stool, raising a mug of beer in some long-forgotten toast. It was this last one that Signas stared at for some time, remembering how he and X had always spoken of Cain. Not just as a mentor, but as a father, one who had taken them in along with the two reploids he'd personally created.

"A family," Signas murmured to himself, turning the cube to look at X again. "Can reploids truly have such a thing?" No matter how many marriages, even adoptions, he'd seen among his Hunters over the years, he couldn't keep himself from wondering if it was really the same as it was for humans. Eventually, he put it back, closed the secret drawer, and called up Alia.

"Yes?" She replied after several seconds. "Sorry, sir, but I'm on duty."

"I see." Signas frowned slightly. He didn't even need to ask who it was; X would have told him if he was taking the entire 17th out, but a solo mission was somewhat less formal, as long as Sigma wasn't involved. "When X gets back, have him come see me. I want to discuss our conversation from yesterday with him. In detail."

"Yes, sir," she replied with a straight face, though a wince was clear in her voice. "I'll tell him."

"Good." Signas started to cut the connection, then paused. "Anything important?"

"Just the usual." She sounded slightly more cheerful now. "The same clowns as in D.C. yesterday. He should have them cleaned up in a few more minutes."

"I'd be disappointed in him otherwise." Signas smiled slightly. "Keep watching over him, Alia."

"It's what I do," she said, shrugging. "I'll see you later, sir."

Leaning back in his chair again, Signas looked at the contents of his inbox. Even with nothing more he could do at the moment about the Shanghai situation, there were still a hundred things he should be seeing to, as always. Unbidden, he thought of what Zero would consider to be the highest priority, and realized that it sounded extremely appealing at the moment.

The holocube wasn't the only thing the secret compartment in Cain's desk had contained. The doctor had been many things, but a fool wasn't one of them, and he'd kept a magpistol there in case of the worst. Signas approved of that, but his choice in weaponry was somewhat different. Taking the titanitefloalloy hilt from the compartment, he thumbed the button, but didn't press it just yet as he stood and walked out of his office.

One could never spend too much time honing his abilities, even if he hoped that the day he would have to put them to use would never come.

**June 5th, 2184, 7:25 AM **

**Outskirts of Berlin **

In a streak of blue light, X arrived.

"It looks like the Robot Master and the automated defenses have been making a surprisingly good effort," Alia's voice said as X surveyed the scene before him. "The old man reported thirteen Mavericks and a lot of drones, but there are only seven still active, and a bunch of drones are down, too. Not bad for being a century out of date"

"It wasn't just them," X corrected her, meeting the eyes of the male of the two civilians on the roof; he was holding some sort of metal blades, but from where he stood at the canyon's mouth, X was too far away to get a good look at them. The woman seemed unarmed, but despite several bleeding wounds, her eyes were angry rather than scared. "Those two tourists have been defending themselves, too. Pitbull would be proud of them."

"Son of a bitch!" the Maverick closest to him, a massive reploid with thick armor and huge fists, yelled as he leaped straight up and activated jets in the soles of his boots, rocketing away. "It's Mega Man X! Forget about the others, everybody slag him! _Now!_"

"There's only one on the ground," Alia was saying, at the same time. "Well, not any more. I'd guess he's their leader. The rest are in two groups up above, three each, on opposite sides. One buster, one saber, and one magrifle each. All the drones are over the roof, but it looks like they're starting to come this way. The good news is, I think the tourists took out all the fast ones. Those all look fairly slow."

"All right, let me know when they approach." Nodding grimly, X didn't waste time gawking at the leader's flight, surprised as he was by it. Dash boots were practically standard issue for combat reploids these days, and every so often you came across one crazy enough to use warp boots, which usually caught up to them in the end. Jet boots, though, despite their popularity in fiction, had never really caught on. Mainly, because of the hair-trigger precision required to keep from screwing up and snapping your neck or scraping your face off.

At the moment, though, X's main concern was with the other six Mavericks. Raising his Mark-17 X-Buster, the bulbous blue arm cannon that slid up to engulf his hand at his mental command, he released the shot he'd been charging since the moment he'd arrived. Normal plasma bullets from a Buster were about the size and shape of an egg, but a fully charged shot from a Mark-17 was powerful enough to vaporize most of a car; the massive blue sphere of plasma scattered the Mavericks on the left.

As soon as the shot was off, X turned and dashed, then jumped, straight towards the canyon wall on his right. Automatic wall-grippers built into his fingers activated as soon as he hit the wall, but rather than hang on, he immediately dash-jumped again to the opposite side, gaining height. As he continued back and forth upward, he fired a quick flurry of normal shots towards the swarm of drones. Only about half of them hit, from that distance, but even the ones that missed still served to scatter the enemy robots.

His fourth jump took him soaring through the air, past two of the startled Mavericks on his right, to land squarely in the middle of the cluster; the entire thing had taken about four seconds. They brought up buster, gun and blade to bear on him, but X was still moving, still faster. Turning one foot to the side, he activated that dash boot alone, spinning himself around in a circle faster than the eye could follow. Firing his buster rapidly and repeatedly as he whirled, he aimed for knees and hands and faces, and all three fell back, howling.

As they fell back, he dash-jumped away as suddenly as he'd arrived, back across the canyon to the other three. Again, as he flew, he fired at the approaching drones, making a mental note as he did of the largest one left; a four-faced skull hanging from a propeller, each face on a separate side, with three gun barrels inside each grinning maw. There had been three of them, but the tourists and the Guts Man had apparently taken down the other two before he'd arrived.

"The ones on the other side are still just staring at you," Alia told him, voice scornful. "Amateurs. _I _have a faster reaction time than _that_. Their boss is staying up high, too. I'll keep an eye on him."

This time, when he landed and started charging his buster, X didn't aim for the middle of the cluster as he had before. Instead, he deliberately landed _on _the shortest of the seven, a stout porcine model with a ridiculous blonde mohawk and a buster, slamming the enemy to the dirt under his feet. Before he, or the other two, could respond, X activated his dash boots once more and blasted off of him towards his second target. The unfortunate Maverick was flung, screaming, off of the edge with burn marks down his face and chest.

The second reacted faster; as X bore down on him, he activated a bright red beam saber and took a wild swing. Unfortunately for him, he still wasn't quite fast enough. Before he could connect, X reached past it, grabbed the wrist of his saber hand and broke it with a sharp snap, while coldcocking him with his buster.

"_Aaaah! _Why, you little..." The burly Maverick growled, only to trail off as he realized just what it was that was aimed at his face, point blank and fully charged. "Aw, f-" His final words vanished in the same massive blue blast as his head.

_Cold, _X told himself, watching the Maverick die without a trace of emotion. _You can't afford to get all broken up about killing, the way you did when you were younger. Not without Zero here. Without him, you're the only one left. Do what you have to, when you have to. Calm and cold, and don't let yourself feel a thing. _

"The drones are almost on you!" Alia told him. "And the ones on the other side are taking aim! Watch out!"

"Uh..." the third Maverick said as X turned to him, dropping his magrifle and raising his hands. "I surrender?"

X ignored him and took one quick glance over his shoulder, noting the positions of the three Mavericks still standing on the other side, before dash-jumping backwards over the ravine again, straight into the swarm of airborne drones that had finally reached him. Their shots all missed, aimed at where he'd been standing a moment ago, and he hit the side of the big four-faced one he'd noticed before, wall-grippers sinking into the metal plate between two of the skulls as easily as into the canyon's side.

Automatically responding, all four mouths opened, ready to fire. An instant before they did, X did so as well, letting loose a charged shot at the Maverick who'd tried to surrender. The kickback sent the big drone spinning wildly, and its shots took out all of the remaining swarm, as well as forcing the remaining three Mavericks to jump back, cursing. As soon as it stopped firing, X dash-jumped off and away, over their heads.

"Gotcha, blue boy!" One of the Mavericks yelled as X soared overhead, both the buster and the magrifle aiming up at him. "He's a sitting... aw, no." X was aiming as well, and he shot first, firing off another charged shot across the canyon at the one who'd surrendered, now lying prone in the dirt. The force of the shot flung him back faster and harder, and both Mavericks missed. Landing behind them, lowering his off-hand to the ground to help him land stably, X fired at the backs of their legs, and two of three fell forward.

"You're good, old man," the last one standing said as he turned on X, blue beam saber blazing to life and swinging. "_Damn _good. I'll give you that much. But using a buster this close ain't such a good idea!"

In response, X drew his own saber with his free hand, the now-familiar sword of bright green light activating at his command. The famous "Z-saber," owned by both Sigma and Zero in turn before passing to him. Both were superior to him in its use, he knew, but after thirty years he was no amateur, despite preferring his buster... and not just because with a long-range weapon, you didn't _feel _it when your enemies died.

Catching the Maverick's blade with his own on an upswing, he forced him back, and followed up with a strong horizontal slash aimed at his knees. The Maverick dash-jumped away across the canyon, the same way X had been doing, but the fallen two weren't as lucky; the plasma blade finished them both.

"Useless idiots, every last one of them!" The last one snarled, hanging off of the drone's side; recognizing him as an ally, it didn't fire, slowly bearing down on X again. "It seems like it's all up to me, now!" Dash-jumping back towards X, he raised his saber overhead in both hands, howling as he brought it down. "For the glory of the New Maverick Nation!"

Dashing to the side at the last moment, X calmly avoided the massive attack, and decapitated the fool before he could make another movement. Almost as an afterthought, he blew away the drone as well.

"Look out, X!" Alia shouted, and he dash-jumped back across the canyon not a moment too late. Diving from above, the Maverick leader struck the earth where he'd been with one massive, spiked fist, spraying dirt and debris everywhere. Seeing that he hadn't hit X, he frontflipped and landed on his feet, turning to face him across the canyon.

"I wish I knew just _what _the hell it was that I did, to deserve luck _this _bad," the massive humanoid growled, tiny eyes squinting as he brought both fists up before him in a guard position; neither was as large as the one had been when he'd attacked, and the spikes had retracted, but they were still impressive enough. "Now I _have _tokill you. If I return like this, and tell Lucallion that I managed to get my entire team killed for nothing, he'll throw the rope around my neck himself."

X glared back, buster charging and saber blazing, and said nothing.

"What?" The Maverick snorted. "Don't you have anything to say? No witty banter? No sarcastic wisecracks? Isn't that supposed to be what heroes do, before a duel?"

"Why waste words on a dead man?" X replied.

"Please..." The fallen Maverick near him moaned, still alive somehow. "I surrendered... please, mercy..."

Without taking his eyes from the leader, X used his buster, and gave him the only mercy he could.

"Well, now!" The leader snickered. "And to think, I'd heard that you were some sort of bleeding heart. Practically a pacifist. So much for that! Is that what you Hunters consider to be going easy on some poor bastard?"

"Going easy gets people killed," X replied, pointing his buster at him again. "And that was a quicker, cleaner death than he'd have received if I'd taken him back alive."

"And you call yourselves heroes?" The Maverick spat. "No trial, no second chances, just an automatic death sentence? While humans can slaughter as many of us as they want, and it's not even considered to be murder? And you Hunters wonder why there's so many Mavericks in the world?"

"Were you put in command because you could talk a good fight?" X shot back.

"Heh." The Maverick chuckled grimly. "Fair enough. All right then, you hypocrite! My name is Garm! Tell them that, when you arrive in hell and they ask you who sent you!" Winding up, he swung, and his fist came blasting across the canyon towards X. As it shot forward, another layer of armor crept out from the wrist to cover it, increasing its size again while the spikes grew as well.

X barely managed to dash-jump away in time. As it shot past, he returned fire, only for Garm to rocket up into the sky on his jet boots. The fist wasn't flying, though; it was attached to Garm's arm by a steel cable, which he used to reel it back in before sending it out again, while he remained hovering in the air above the canyon.

Again X dodged, this time running forward, and again he returned fire, more successfully than before. Garm took the hit, blocking it with his remaining fist and grunting, but it was clear that even the charged shot had only put a dent in him. A flurry of followup bullets forced him to retreat, cursing, as he reeled his fist back in again.

"Not bad at all!" He shouted. "Let's turn it up a notch!" This time, he used both fists, one after the other, both growing spikes and sizes as they came. X stood his ground until the first reached him, then blasted it with a charged shot, knocking it off course enough that a follow-up slash from the Z-saber sent it spinning away as he dashed out of the path of the second fist.

Before Garm could pull them back, X shot him again, leading him so that his jet boots would carry him into the line of fire. Roaring in anger, he retracted his fists and sent them out again immediately, one coming around in a roundhouse while the other descended from above in an open-palmed slap. As X prepared to dash away, however, he realized that the descending hand was growing even larger than before, adding another layer over the first, so that it was larger than Garm himself. Frantically dashing, he was barely able to get out of the way in time. As the fist nearly clipped him, passing over the top of the other hand, he took aim once more.

"I've got you now!" Garm bellowed as the spikes on the hand's back exploded outward, shot off in a storm of shrapnel. Still dashing away, X was nevertheless caught off guard, and was so focused on dodging all the flying spikes as Garm reeled in his fists that he tripped over a rock and stumbled, nearly falling on his face.

"_Guten nicht_, old man!" Garm crowed, both hands flying wide and open to slap together, growing to their maximum size as the spikes on the left one regenerated.

Without a word in response, X dash-jumped _forward_, past the fist and over the cables, and severed both with a swing of the Z-Saber.

Garm reeled, howling, and the second Blue Bomber kept going beneath him. As he did, he took aim at one of the Maverick's jet boots, and fired a charged shot that took it out. Balance and stability instantly lost, Garm spiraled out of control, the stumps of his arms flailing, to crash into the dirt next to his severed hands. Just for good measure, X shot him again before crossing back over to check if he was dead.

"Coming along?" Garm groaned, catching X's eyes with his only remaining one, his face a bloody wreck from the crash. "Heh. I'll buy you a drink down there in hell for beating me, Hunter!" A moment later, his fists both exploded in spikes and shrapnel, but X simply hurled himself backwards, down into the canyon. Garm himself was not so lucky; caught between them, he was shredded by his own suicide attack.

"Someday, Garm," X said, landing on his feet as bits and pieces rained down from the explosion. "But not today." Shaking his head, he turned back to the cabin. "Are you two all..." He trailed off, eyes widening.

"That's enough out of you, Hunter," the first Maverick he'd downed, the one his dash boots had sent over the edge, snarled. His face was almost as torn up as Garm's had been, but he was still holding the woman hostage, well away from the other two. His buster was rammed under her chin as he stood behind her, holding her by the neck with his other hand. "Don't move, and that goes for you too, robot! And you! Keep your hands behind your back!"

"Idiot!" The male tourist was barking, arms folded behind him. "How could you possibly be so careless?"

"Like you saw him either?" She snarled back. "I was watching the fight, just like you!"

"Both of you, shut up!" the Maverick growled. "I ain't interested in your lovers' spat! You, X! Drop the buster, and the blade!"

"And if I don't?" X asked calmly, stalling for time; he had his buster trained on them, but even if he fired, the Maverick would kill her before it connected.

"The little lady gets a plasma lobotomy, that's what!" the Maverick yelled, his remaining eye bulging. "What, are you stupid or something?"

"Perhaps," X agreed, but his focus was on the woman's face; she was mouthing something silently. "Or perhaps she's an acceptable casualty, compared to letting you escape, let alone giving you a free shot at me."

"If that was it, you'd have blown me away already, boy scout!" the Maverick snorted. "Nice try! Now ditch 'em, and your armor too, before I _really _get pissed off! Last chance!"

_Shoot me,_ she was saying without speaking, mouth slowly forming the words over and over. _Shoot me._

"Well," X murmured, mind racing, as he glanced at the other two and saw what he'd missed before. _That Guts Man didn't shut down from the First Law when they were hurt before I got here. And that man. He's not holding knives. Those are his _fingers. _He's a reploid, and if she is too, then maybe..._ "As you wish." He fired a charged shot, straight at her.

"_Huh?_" the Maverick gaped, but the woman was moving, bringing her hands up as if to catch the huge blue blast. Red metal spheres in her palms absorbed the plasma, and a split-second later, it bathed her entire body in a personal energy field that destroyed the Maverick completely.

"Thanks," she told X, shutting it off and shooting him a cheerful smile. "I needed that. Looks like I win this time. Four to three."

"Oh, please." The man stretched his arms, flexing his bladed fingers. "That last one belongs to our friendly neighborhood Maverick Hunter, and you know it. He did all the hard work. All _you _did was get taken hostage."

"Like you would have done any better?" She shot back. "We're just lucky he was a misogynist. If he'd taken you hostage instead of me, we'd have been screwed."

"Agreed, but that hardly makes that kill yours." He shook his head, mock-sorrowfully. "We're tied. Again. Sorry."

"Enough," X said calmly, walking towards them. "Who are you two?"

"I'm running their names," Alia told him. "But I'm not turning up any records of... wait. Julian Lee and Fiona Flores. Something about these records, though... there's nothing obvious, but my gut tells me they're fake."

"Are private citizens required to submit to Maverick Hunter interrogation without due cause, now?" Julian asked sardonically. "My, how the times _have _changed."

"They are when they're suspected of illegal activity," X replied. "For example, impersonating humans and identity theft."

"Those identities might not be real, but their actual owners certainly aren't using them at the moment," Julian assured him. "And with the lamentable state the world is in these days, it's _safer _to be human, that's all."

"Understandable." X nodded. "But I think I'd still prefer to hear the whole story, just to be on the safe side. Back at HQ."

"He's not buying it," Fiona told her partner. "What do we do?"

"The only thing we can." He sighed, reaching into one pocket of his ruined suit and producing a credit card, which he tossed to X. "Please give this to this gentleman's, ah, 'owner' and tell him he's welcome to the entire balance of the account. Also, that the password is 'one two three four.' Yes, really."

"Our sincerest apologies," she continued as they both stepped forward, each placing a hand on one of the Guts Man's shoulders; the Robot Master's face had grown steadily more confused as the conversation had progressed, but he'd remained silent. "But some things are more important. See you next time!" She winked, still smiling.

"Wait!" X yelled, dashing after them, but it was too late. All three vanished, warping away in a beam of light, and X was left alone in the hidden canyon, surrounded by the remnants of the fight. Staring up into the blue sky after them as the trail of light vanished, he picked up the card without looking at it. Pulling back his buster and deactivating his beam saber, he shook his head and muttered to himself under his breath.

"What the hell?"

**June 5th, 2184, 3:00 PM **

**Mecha **

"You miserable _morons!_" Earl bellowed, slamming his fist onto the meeting table in the Dark Hall at the center of the Kingdome. The burly reploid's normally-dark face was boiling red, his eyes bulged, and his teeth were clenched. "You got _nicked!_"

"Hardly," Viscount drawled, arms crossed, from across the meeting table. "Nicked would have been if he'd actually brought us in. If you're going to rant at us, at least use accurate terminology, please."

"I'll give you accurate terminology, all right, you little-" Earl snarled, fingers clenching, before the reploid sitting to his left at the end of the table put a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, Earl," Baron, the second-youngest of them, advised him. Tall, buff and tan with ice-blond hair, he could have been a model had he been activated in the world above. His usual dazzling smile was absent now, though, and his blue eyes were cold; though he hid it better, he was just as angry as his partner. "And Viscount, this is no time for your usual shenanigans. You screwed up, and you both know it."

"And just what else were we _supposed _to do, huh?" Margravine shot back across the table, her temper fraying further, though she kept herself leaning back with her arms crossed behind her head. Her day had _not _been a good one, and the fact that she knew the two of them were both _right _just made it worse. "How, exactly, were we supposed to know that not only were we going to be ambushed by Mavericks, but that _Mega Man X himself_ would be putting in an appearance?"

"You didn't secure the line from your hotel before you made the call," Countess said from Viscount's left, two seats down from her, voice calm and cold. "That was your mistake. Had you done so, the Mavericks wouldn't have followed you. For that matter, if you'd been paying more attention on your drive over, it's entirely possible that you would have _noticed _them following you and acted accordingly. Baron is right. You dropped the ball on this one, and we're all going to have to pay for it. This is the greatest security leak in the history of Mecha."

"We're not blaming you for X," Prince added from her left, shaking his head slowly. "Nobody could have possibly seen that coming. But the rest of it..." He sighed. "I'd hoped you two would have grown up more than this. Why _was _he there, anyways? There's no reason Mega Man X himself should have been deployed for that minor a threat."

"Bad luck," Duke grumbled, leaning back in his chair across from Prince. "He was probably bored. Wrong place, wrong time, and we all take it right up the shitter." Second-eldest, short and wiry, with a heavy brown mustache and a bowl cut, he was dressed like the more laid-back sort of college professor. Despite his air of feigned detachment, his eyes were glittering sharply as he continued. "Of course, that doesn't excuse this level of incompetence, but then, what would?"

"You stay out of this!" Margravine yelled at him down the table before turning to the reploid sitting between him and Earl. "And don't _you _start, either!"

"Implying that I even _need _to," Marquis sniffed. Pale and androgynous, with long, black hair and similarly-colored eyes, he was examining his fingernails. "You're doing quite well enough already without my assistance. Perhaps if you were to ask nicely, though..."

"Oh, please, honored Marquis, grace us with your arrogance, though we know ourselves to be unworthy," Viscount sneered.

"I can't figure out which one of you two pisses me off more," Earl growled, looking back and forth between him and Marquis. "And that's saying something considered only one of you screwed up today. If there's a _scratch _on those bikes I'm gonna-"

"Enough, all of you," King said, speaking for the first time since they'd convened, and everybody fell silent, turning to look at him. The absolute ruler of Mecha sat at the head of the table, in the same throne as always; the table and the rest of the chairs were designed to rise out of the floor whenever they were needed. "This is no time for your bickering."

"Apologies," Baron said after a moment of silence. "We were simply..." He trailed off, groping for a word.

"I am aware of what you were doing," King told him gravely, and the reploid flinched back. "As Countess said, this has changed the game entirely. We must carefully consider how we will adapt to meet this new scenario. Carefully, and _calmly_." He looked between Earl and Margravine as he stressed the last word.

"Yeah, okay," Margravine muttered. "Sorry, Earl. We made sure to keep all the action away from the bikes, at least."

"Guess even you screwups can manage that much," the other reploid growled, looking away. "Guess it wasn't _all _your fault it went so bad, either."

"Leaving the question of the exact percentage of responsibility to attach aside for the moment, that _does _seem to be the operative question." Prince glanced at Countess, who'd been staring at the table ever since King had agreed with her. "Is there any chance they'll be able to trace the cover identities back to here?"

"None." She shook her head quickly. "I followed standard procedure every step of the way. The trail ends with an information forger in Paris who has no idea who or what we are, and doesn't particularly care as long as we pay. Something of a fool in that regard, but he does good work, which is why we've been using him. We may want to find somebody else, just in case the Maverick Hunters monitor him from now on."

"Then Viscount and Margravine are the only ones who'll be in danger from this little botch," Duke mused, scratching his long nose. "Now, if only we had some way of knowing just how the Maverick Hunters would deal with a situation like this, hmmm?" The question was directed above them, towards the viewing gallery that had been added to the Dark Hall decades ago, and as he asked it everybody else at the table turned to look up there as well.

The eight of them and King were the only ones to sit at the table, but they were not the only reploids in Mecha. Others had come, others who had thrown away the world above to live outside of the public eye and fight a war of shadows forever, but their war had ended, leaving them with nowhere else to go and nothing to do. It had been then that one of that group, the only active being outside of Mecha to know of its existence, and the only one of the group who was not a reploid, had asked King for sanctuary.

"Did you display any actual Maverick activity, or activity that implied Maverick tendencies at all?" A male voice replied from the viewing gallery after a moment, deep and rich, with an Arabic accent. "Or was X only suspicious once he realized you were reploids?"

"The latter," Viscount said, glancing at Margravine, to which she nodded. "We were very careful not to give him anything other than what he had. He knows we were under false identities, and that we were there to take the Guts Man, but that's all."

"In that case, the Hunters probably won't actually go so far as to declare you Maverick," the Arabic man said, sounding thoughtful. "Not for something that minor. You'll still go on a list, but it'll basically be 'wanted for questioning' rather than 'apprehend or kill on site.' They'll be looking for you for a while, but there won't be anything resembling an all-out manhunt, and eventually most of them will probably forget all about you."

"Assuming standard procedure still works the same as it did back in our day," another man's voice from the viewing gallery, this one containing the thick tones of the Bronx, chimed in. "It's been a long time since then, you know. A lot of shit's changed. Hell, could be standard procedure ain't standard at all any more. Doubt it, knowing Signas, but that's the thing. We ditched the place for the last time when he was still learning the ropes, so maybe we _don't _know him as well as we think. Even X... the guy we knew never fought the way you two said he did."

"There is that," the first man conceded. "You're _sure _he came out of that fight completely unscratched?"

"It was unreal," Margravine murmured. "We're good. I _know _we're good. And he made us look like _innocent bystanders_." She paused, realizing what she'd just said, as Viscount gave her a look. "Which, I suppose, is what we were trying for, so it's a shame it didn't last. But actually _feeling _like that..." She shook her head slowly.

"It was as if he didn't even care," Viscount added. "To him, they weren't adversaries. He didn't enjoy what he was doing. Just the opposite. He wanted to get it over with as quickly and efficiently as possible, so that he didn't have to do it for a second longer than necessary. And that was exactly what he did."

"Then he's still X," the New Yorker said flatly. "He's just changed on the outside, is all. Built himself a shell of ice, to keep himself from snapping, and yeah, it's made him strong. But deep down inside? He ain't as cold as he tries to make himself out to be. When he's not on the battlefield, he won't be so hard."

"Very well, then." King nodded. "Thank you."

"You guys took us in," the Arab replied. "We might not be as much a part of this as you are, but sharing information is the least we can do at this point."

"We appreciate your assistance," Prince agreed. "Well, then, at least _something _didn't go as badly as it could have."

"There were others," Baron conceded, his bad mood already fading; he wasn't the sort to stay angry for long. "The Guts Man you both brought in seems to be dealing with his new situation remarkably well. I've already assigned him to District 3, Marquis."

"Oh, lovely." Marquis sighed theatrically. "One more to keep from injuring himself and others. Oh well, I'm sure I'll find _some _use for him."

"We explained the situation to him on the way back," Margravine told Baron, ignoring that. "He was confused at first, but once we managed to get him to understand the concept that he wasn't property any more, everything seemed to suddenly make sense to him." She scowled. "His memory was wiped about twenty years ago, and I get the feeling he was pretty sharp for his model before it was. There might be some bleedthrough."

"I'll advise the doc," Duke said, frowning thoughtfully. "He should be able to do an analysis on that. He's working on him right now, yes?"

"Repairing the damage done to him during the fight." Viscount nodded, scratching idly at his own wounds; they weren't enough to cause him any issues with his movement, but they were still irritating. "The Guts Man wanted him to take care of us first, of course, but the doc was able to explain the situation to him."

"The doc _is _remarkably good at that," the older reploid agreed, smirking. "I suppose you're not _completely _incompetent after all, then."

"Incompetence was not the cause of this," King said quietly, and everybody turned to look at him once more. The ruler of Mecha sat as he always did, arms and legs motionless, but his face seemed troubled, difficult as it was to see it in the dark hall with his massive helmet framing it. "I have had another visitation."

Everybody else at the table exchanged a glance, but nobody spoke for a few moments.

"Then this was not simply bad luck?" Prince asked eventually.

"No." King shook his head. "What seemed to be chance-a moment's decision, out of whim-brought X into contact with you two, Viscount, Margravine. His first contact with any among us, save for our guests. This was no coincidence. Though he knows nothing of what he has just now brushed against, and will not for some time to come... this was meant to happen. He will not forget, and in time, he will learn more, and more. Until the day comes when he will be drawn here, and we will welcome him, for that is part of our purpose."

"Is it time, then?" Countess asked, looking worried now. "Already? Now? We're not ready for that yet."

"Not yet," King assured her. "Soon, but not yet. Haste would probably be a good idea, although not to the point of extremity. We'll likely have enough time to prepare." He closed his eyes. "But yes. The day we will reveal ourselves to the outside world, following that on which X will come to us, is approaching. Until then, however, we will maintain our credo. Our only real protection against the world above, and the judgment they would pass on us, should they know of our existence."

"Leave a whisper," all eight of them said in unison.

"Indeed." King nodded. "Margravine, Viscount. This is not meant as punishment, but considering that X now knows of your existence, I must bar you from the world above until further notice. Remain here in Mecha until you are otherwise notified by myself, Prince or Countess. No exceptions."

"Understood, sir," Margravine said along with Viscount, fighting the surge of anger she felt at the words, no matter how much she understood them.

"Good." He closed his eyes. "One day, and that day will come sooner than I would like, we will return to that world completely. On that day, you will see more of it and what it truly contains than you had ever wished. Until then, we all must serve our people. That is the meaning of our names, an obligation that the humans who bore them failed so abysmally at. We will not follow in their footsteps. Our people come first, and we will do what we must in order to give them the world they dream of, so close and yet so far from the dream of Thomas Light himself. But until then..."

"Leave a whisper," the eight of them all said in unison once more as they stood and began to leave the room, alone or in pairs.

"Come," Viscount said to her, as they watched the others depart, trailing behind them. "Let's find something to drink, some music to listen to, and something to take us away from all of this. We've done it before."

"I know," she admitted, as Baron drifted over to them.

"Hard luck, guys," he said sympathetically. "Listen, the next time I go up top, I'll bring you back something, huh? Something you'll like."

"Thanks, Baron." She forced a smile, as did Viscount, and with a nod of his head the blonde reploid followed Earl out. Leaving King alone with his throne and his thoughts as the table and chairs retracted back into the floor, she leaned up against the wall outside the Dark Hall for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. "We really did screw it up, this time, didn't we. Damn, damn, damn, damn, _damn_."

"Granted." Viscount shrugged. "But look at it this way. It'd probably be a couple of years before we were sent out again anyways, by our usual standards. And if his Majesty is entirely correct, which he usually is, that's just about how long we have to wait until the big show starts anyways. So we're probably not actually missing anything, now are we?"

"All true, I know." She lowered her hand, staring at the floor. "I just hate all this, is all. As much as I love Mecha, and everything it represents, and everybody here... how long have we lived here, in this city beneath the earth, only setting foot outside of it on business, and that on rare occasions? How long until we can be _free_?"

"And would you go out into that wide, wild world and get an apartment and a job and bills and violence and prejudice?" Viscount smiled like a knife. "This cage of ours might keep us inside, but at least it's comfortable. We love the world above _because _we only see it briefly. Would we love it so much if we lived there, rather than simply visited, little princess?"

"Sarcastic jackass." She snorted, raising her head, but she returned his smile with a smirk of her own; she knew what he was doing, and she appreciated it despite her annoyance.

"Whimsical brat," he retorted, reaching out to take her arm. "Shall we, then?"

"I suppose so," she agreed, as they walked down the hall together, footsteps echoing in the empty metal hall.

**June 5th, 2184, 3:00 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"What the hell was _that _all about?" Alia asked the moment X arrived back at the MHHQ.

"Exactly," X replied, frowning. "Unfortunate discoveries are one thing. We all know how _that _goes, thanks to Sigma. But this? This was just plain _weird_. Did you trace them?"

"Yes, but it wasn't any good." She shook her head. "A tiny little shack out in the wasteland. Their bikes went there, as well; I assume they had a third one waiting there for the Guts Man. I sent in a couple of the 17th to search the place, but I doubt they'll find anything. Very professional."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He sighed. "If they put that much work into hiding their real identities, they weren't going to bungle it on the run." He glanced at her. "Speaking of which, anything more on that score?"

"I found the real Julian Lee and Fiona Flores, if that's what you mean," she said wryly. "There was probably a fair resemblance to those two ten years ago, but not any more. They're doing time in the U.S. and Spain, respectively, and I doubt they've ever met each other. I have some of the girls running searches based on their faces instead."

"Let's just hope that's not as much of a dead end as the rest of this." He thought for a moment. "Tell them to try looking into any sales or disappearances of Robot Masters. The only thing we know for sure is that they were there for the Guts Man, and they were trying to buy him legally before the Mavericks showed up." He snapped his fingers. "The account they used to pay. That card they left the old man. It'll probably be as airtight as the rest of this, but..."

"I'll try," Alia promised. "And I'll remember that, about the Robot Master, too. It's not much of a lead, but it's all we've got." She gave him a wry smile. "This was your idea, you know."

"And as much of a headache as this is giving me, better that we know _something's_ up than staying in the dark," X told her, as they walked down the hall together. "Did anything happen back here while I was away?"

"The 17th are recovering," she told him. "Arvis told me that everybody who's still awake wants another go at that simulation as soon as the whole Unit are back on their feet. He claims they know what they screwed up on, and won't do it a second time."

"Really." X smiled as well. "There aren't any second chances in the field. He knows that. Still... if they're all that eager, it's a good sign. We'll have to see if they can back it up."

"I wouldn't bet against them," Alia agreed. "The only other thing of note is that Signas has stepped in on the Shanghai situation. He sent the 25th in to start helping with the evacuation, with instructions to promise full citizenship. More importantly, he did it without waiting for the government's approval."

"That won't go over well," X murmured; the question of just how much bullshit Signas was willing to take from the government, and how far he would go when he reached his limit, was the biggest question around the MHHQ these days, even more than what Sigma's next move would be. Though nobody actually raised the question of where that road could eventually lead, and if they would all be willing to follow their leader down it, everybody was thinking about it, especially the Captains. "Think there's any chance he'll go easy on me for yesterday now that he's done that?"

"That, I'm going to save my money on," she said dryly. "I'd advise that you get it over with as soon as possible, really."

"Good advice." X nodded gloomily. "Is he still in his office?"

"The training room, actually." She inclined her head as they approached it. "With Lassiter again."

"Huh." X turned towards it. "As much as I hope that that never actually becomes relevant, good for him." The door hadn't been sealed, at least not against anybody of their rank; they walked in together, and watched the duel taking place in the empty metal chamber, no computer-generated illusions necessary.

Lassiter had been Zero's second-in-command in the 00 Unit before Eurasia's fall, and the natural choice to take over leadership after his disappearance. A tall, lean, leathery humanoid with a bald head and a short gray mustache, in armor of blood red and deep purple, what he lacked in heroic stature he made up for in efficiency and pragmatism. He'd never be a match for the Crimson Hunter, but he was the best saber fighter the Hunters had, and a veteran of half a century. His beam saber, a darker shade of green than his former Captain's, had been the last thing hundreds of Mavericks had seen.

By contrast, Signas was much less skilled, but what he lacked in battlefield experience he made up for with keen instincts and a lightning intellect that zeroed in on even the tiniest openings instantly. More importantly, he was improving; ever since he'd started practicing regularly with Lassiter, a decade ago, the matchup grew closer and closer, and the win-loss record more and more even. His weapon of choice was different as well, a bright blue beam foil, the saber's blade modified to be thinner and more suitable for fencing than slashing.

X and Alia watched as their blades flashed, the two reploids standing a few feet away. Lassiter was quick to keep moving, having learned long ago that standing still for very long worked far more to Signas' advantage than his own, and while Signas continued to press him, he was reluctant to go too far on the offensive. Because of that, their practice sessions tended to be lengthy, but it seemed X had come in at the conclusion. About five minutes after he and Alia started watching, Lassiter was able to get a leg behind Signas and sweep him off his feet, and had his blade at his Commander's throat in the blink of an eye.

"Good spirit today," he said laconically, pulling it back and sheathing the hilt at his hip. "You were more worked up than usual. It's an improvement. Sir."

"As much as I enjoy hearing that I'm doing better, I doubt it'll happen often," Signas replied wryly, getting back up and putting away his blade. "Today has been... complicated." He turned to X and Alia, raising an eyebrow. "There you are. Did you have fun out there?"

"I'd say I never have fun, but complicated is a good word for my day, too," X admitted. "Before we go into that, though, I'm guessing you'd prefer to talk about yesterday."

"I'll leave you gentlemen to this," Lassiter said politely, walking around them towards the door.

"No, stay," Signas told him, and he paused. "You're a Captain as well. This is something you should know as well. I'm not going to chew you out, X." He sighed. "That would be more than slightly hypocritical of me, considering my own actions today. Our political situation is no longer as simple as it was when I first came here."

"_That _was _simple_?" X asked, slightly sarcastically. Signas had been assigned as the Hunters' new Commanding Officer shortly following a GDC attempt to reduce them to three active Units, claiming that the need for the Hunters was minimal under the belief that Sigma had finally been eradicated. It had taken the revelation that the Maverick Emperor's last defeat was as temporary as the rest to remove that particular blade of Damocles from their necks, and to call the period immediately following it "turbulent" would be an understatement.

"Only by comparison to our current standing, I'll grant you, but yes." Signas nodded gravely. "We've done what we had to in order to survive, and while we might regret some of the actions we had to take, we wouldn't change them if we had the chance. The problem with going down that particular road is that it grows more and more slippery every day. Saying 'I did what I had to' is one thing. Using it as an excuse is another entirely. So far, we've managed to stay on the far side of that line, but every day..." He closed his eyes.

"You refer to the threat of dictatorship," Alia said. "Of assuming it. As often as we seem to be accused of it-really, you'd think they would learn a new word eventually-we've managed to avoid even placing a toe on that side of the line. So far. We've kept the government in line by playing along with them when it doesn't matter, and intimidating them when it does, and it's worked, but that doesn't mean it always will. They know as well as we do what will happen if they push us too far, or the other way around."

"And the moment it does, all the work we've done to keep our civilization standing after Eurasia's fall will collapse in a heartbeat," Signas continued. "It won't matter who was responsible, who started it, who escalated it, who finally declared it. The instant hostilities erupt between the government and the Hunters, we _all _lose. Them, us... and all of the civilians whose lives depend on us, more than ever in today's world. For their sake, as well as ours, we can _not _allow things to escalate to that level. No matter the circumstances."

"Dunno if the boys and girls would even go for it, either," Lassiter added. "Some of them, sure. Hopefully most of them. But asking them to take up arms against the nation itself? We'd lose people. A lot of them. Hell, some of them might even go with the government, against us. Our own Hunters, trained to be the best, cream of the crop, taking us down. Bet Sigma'd finally keel over just from laughing so hard."

"I know," X said, sighing. "And I know that aggravating a foreign dignitary is only going to make matters worse, especially if he calls up the government and tries to make them 'account' for us. That won't make them happy, and the fact that he started the whole thing won't change their minds. I know."

"No matter how much he was asking for it," Alia murmured under her breath.

"Irrelevant." Signas shook his head. "You grasp my meaning, X. Doing what we have to in order to survive extends to how we conduct ourselves as well as how we deal with others. The time when the only way to respond to aggression was in kind is over. Now, we are the ones in the position of power, and the world is nervous. Merton, and all the rest like him, are belligerent because they're _afraid _of us. They don't like us, and they don't trust us... and they're still living in the world before Eurasia, when they led, and we followed."

"Sometimes it seems like everybody is," Alia said, serious now. "Like we're the only ones with our eyes open. That just makes it even more dangerous. More easy for us to go too far, and claim we're justified."

"Exactly." Signas met X's eyes. "_That _is why I need you to be more careful about what you say, and who you say it to, X. Not because of them, but because of us. The ice is cracking beneath our feet, but we have nowhere to run to, no way to freeze it again. All we can do is stand still, and try to keep our balance, because one step in the wrong place will put us through. We have to remember, at all times, that we are a _defensive_ organization. Against all of our enemies, not just Sigma."

"So they _are _our enemies, then?" X asked softly.  
>"If they wish to see us dismantled and decommissioned, then yes." Signas slowly nodded. "Anybody who does is our enemy. But some enemies are not as easily fought as Sigma. Some, we can only smile and nod at, and wait."<p>

"Just what are we waiting for, then?" Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "Seems to be the operative question to me, anyways."

"And I wish I had an answer to it," Signas agreed. "Perhaps in time, one will come to us. If we're very lucky, it might even be the _right _answer. But until then, all we can do is survive, and wait for the world to change again... hopefully, for the better this time. In truth, there are only thirty-four men and women in the world I truly trust. The three of you. Douglas, Lifesaver and Simon. And the other twenty-eight Captains. Even the rest of the Hunters... I hope for their loyalty, but I can't bring myself to trust in it. Not if it came to what I fear."

"They'd stand with us," X said confidently, thinking about the men and women in the 17th. None of them would turn against the Hunters, no matter what actions Signas took, he was sure. "Maybe before Eurasia, you'd have been right, but the Hunters have changed as much as the world has. They're with us, all the way to hell if that's where we're going."

"X's right." Lassiter nodded. "There's twenty-three of 'em in the 00, and only a couple have been around since before Eurasia, but there's not a single soul among 'em who'd live any other life but the one they've got."

"My girls and boys are the same way," Alia added. "They might not be actual Hunters, but this organization is theirs all the same. They'll keep on doing their work right up until the Mavericks stormed into the war room, if need be, and they'd do the same against anybody else."

"Then I sincerely hope you're right." Signas smiled briefly. "Enough. You said that things had turned interesting today, X?"

"Interesting is an understatement," X said, rolling his eyes. "Not the Mavericks-they were about what you'd expect-so much as a couple of civilians who happened to be on sight. Some place out on the edge of the wasteland, owned by a coot who collected last-century robots. The two in question were supposedly a pair of tourists who'd come to buy a Lighttech Robot Master off of him when the Mavericks attacked."

"Supposedly," Lassiter repeated. "I take it this little story's got a twist at the end."

"They claimed to be humans, but they weren't," Alia explained. "Reploids, traveling under stolen identities, modified to cover up the fact that the real ones were doing time. What's more, they were combat-ready. No armor, but with weapons systems built into their bodies. The man had curved blades for fingers; I assume he had synthskin over them, before the fight broke out. The woman was able to absorb plasma and redirect it into a personal energy field."

"Strange designs, both of those." Signas frowned. "I take it they were defending themselves before they arrived?"

"Took out three each." X nodded. "Even against gutter Mavericks, that's not bad at all, and that was without armor. If they _do _have it, then with that on, they'd probably do better than most Hunters, even in the 17th. After I figured out what they were, they took off with the Robot Master. Lost our trace, too."

"I can see why you said this was complicated." Signas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Was there anything else unusual about them?"

"There was something, I'm sure." X scowled. "But whatever it was, it's not coming to..." He trailed off as he looked from one of them to the other, at what they all had in common despite the wide variance in their designs. Their feet. "Boots. It wasn't just the lack of armor. Even their feet were normal. That's how they were able to pass for humans so successfully."

"No boots?" Lassiter muttered, looking at the clunky metal feet that every reploid shared, whether humanoid or otherwise. "Can't say I've _ever _seen that before."

"That would be because it's illegal," Alia explained, frowning as well. "It has been ever since reploids were first developed. Nobody wants to see human impersonation catch on. It's pointless and paranoiac, but it's important to humans that they always know they're dealing with a reploid, no matter how harmless they might be." She shook her head. "I should have caught on to that the moment I realized they were passing as humans. There's no way they'd have been able to with boots on. I'm getting old, too."

"I didn't figure it out until now, either," X told her, but though he tried to make his voice reassuring, he wasn't quite able to.

"This changes the situation significantly," Signas said, eyes narrowing. "Suspicious activity is one thing, but if they were constructed illegally in the first place..."

"We managed to get some fairly accurate shots of their faces from satellite footage of the incident," Alia reported, raising a hand to her headset. "The staff is putting them together with profiles on what we know about them in the war room as we speak."

"Good." Signas nodded, walking from the room with the other three on his tail. "I want to see just what these two look like with my own eyes."

"They were young," X recalled. "Not just their appearance, but their personality, their mannerisms... even when she was being held at busterpoint, they were arguing like children. It was like it was a game to them."

"Stupid," Lassiter muttered.

"If so, then they're good at their games," Alia added. "She got _out _of that situation by having _X _shoot her, so she could absorb the plasma and take out her attacker. They're young and reckless, but they know what they're doing."

"More and more troublesome." Signas sighed. "And we have no idea who they really are, where they came from, or what they wanted with the Robot Master?"

"None," Alia said, then paused. "Wait. Donia's found something. Several somethings. Records of legal transactions, all of them involving Robot Masters, stretching back... to before Eurasia's fall, so far, and likely even further. The names are different, but all of the records of the buyers bear a strong resemblance to those two."

"More Robot Masters." X frowned. "I don't like this at all. And if they're that old, and still acting like that... either there's something wrong with their heads, or they're remarkably sheltered when they're not doing this."

"How'd you feel about them?" Lassiter asked him. "Your instincts. Anything about them strike you as off?"

"A little," X admitted. "Not majorly, the way it usually does with the nutjobs and whackos. They just seemed strange, rather than wrong." He shook his head. "But that's failed me before. I had no idea about Double, until it was too late." Double had been one of Sigma's most ingenious agents, a natural psychopath who'd needed no infection from the Maverick Virus to agree to his role in the Fourth Maverick Uprising; infiltration of the Hunters as one of their first Navigators, right when the project was just getting off the ground.

"At this point, the functionality of their minds is irrelevant," Signas said as they walked into the war room. "Whether they're sane or not, they're a dangerous mystery, one that I find myself unwilling to simply walk away from." He glanced at Donia, who had turned from her console to look their way once they'd entered. "Bring those two up on the main projector."

"Yes, sir." Donia nodded, and the projector flickered to life, showing a pair of photographs on the upper half, and the relevant details below; their false names, physical descriptions, and estimated stats based on the fight.

"Blue hair?" Lassiter muttered. "Seriously? Thought that sort of thing went out of style after the seventies." He paused, realizing too late that several of the Navigators present had equally unlikely hair colors. "No offense, girls."  
>"This from the man who doesn't <em>have <em>any, and never did," Donia murmured back.

"Fairly distinctive appearances, but not enough to start a manhunt over," X said, ignoring them both. "Not that we were planning on that anyways."

"Definitely not," Signas agreed. "This is not quite _that _troubling. All the same, I want those two. I want to know who they are, and what they're doing. More importantly, I want to know if it poses any risk whatsoever. And since they seem to operate alone, as far as we know, the only way we're ever going to find out is by asking them themselves." He glanced at Alia. "Put them on the permanent APB list, and forward the information to local law enforcement all over the world. Spread the word that the Hunters are looking for this pair. Alive, if possible."

"We'll take care of it, sir," Alia promised, as Donia typed, and the profiles below the pictures changed. Glancing at them, X realized that they were both grinning in the shots, and slowly shook his head as the new words appeared in red.

_Suspected of Maverick loyalties. Apprehend on sight. _


	4. Chapter 3: Whispers At Midnight

_**Chapter 3: Whispers At Midnight **_

**November 11, 2089, 11:50 PM **

**U.S. Robotics Storage Facility, St. Louis **

"There goes the patrol," Trenton Corbun whispered, watching the guards walk past the front doors, exchanging greetings with the one behind the desk and the two stationed outside said sliding glass door as they went. "Is everybody in position?"

"Alexander, Karloff, Hyde and Yeager all report that their teams are ready to go," King replied from the seat of the BMW next to him; as was his habit in the world above, as he'd started calling it, the Robot Master was impersonating a human, dressed to impress in a perfect suit and tie. They'd been parked outside the building opposite the facility for hours now, long enough for the shift to change, and with their windows darkened, the guards currently on duty paid no attention to them. "Let's get started."

Reaching under his seat, he set off the bomb placed underneath another car further down the next street over, well out of eyesight from inside the factory.

"Perfect," Corbun murmured, turning on the communicator attached to his ear as the guards at the door jumped; they'd hacked into the channel used by the employees of the facility as part of their preparations, as well as the roster of who would be on guard duty tonight, and where. "What the hell was that? Jameson! Perrin! Lorraine! Get out there and find out!"

"But sir-" He could see the guard behind the desk protest, even as his voice reached his ear.

"That's an order, Jameson!" Corbun barked. "Something _exploded _out there, and I want to know what it was! Especially now! You all saw the news today! Get out there, and get back in five minutes or less, or I'm calling up top and telling them we're under attack! And if the board finds out that I called it in wrong because you three were dragging your arses..." He trailed off ominously and smiled as the three of them practically ran down the street, their magweapons held at the ready in one hand while the other felt for their less legal alternatives.

"That seems to have done the trick," King noted, watching them head around the corner. As soon as the guards were out of sight, the two of them stepped out of their car and walked quickly towards the front door.

"Are you sure these will work?" Corbun asked, scratching at the false beard he wore; they'd both added them for tonight's operation, but while King's was a trim, handsome goatee, Corbun's was a much bushier mess. "It seems so... I don't know, Inspector Gadget."

"The point is not to conceal our identities," King reminded him. "The point is to leave a memory of men who do not exist. So long as we make it in and out, and they have no footage of our faces, they'll report us as we appeared to them, and nobody will recognize the descriptions."

"Well put, my friend," Corbun told him as they walked into the building. He forced himself to proceed without pausing for a moment, despite the clearly visible camera and the many others not quite so obvious; he could only hope that Hyde's team got the timing right.

"What the hell?" An angry voice barked over the communicator. "Half the cameras just went out! What's going on over there? Everybody in those areas, report in! And who was that who sent those three out? Somebody else get to the front, now!"

"This should do," King murmured, walking ahead of Corbun as they turned to the right and ducking through a door. Corbun waited at the entrance to the hall until another guard ran down towards the lobby. As his eyes widened, but before he could shout an alarm, King opened the door again as smoothly as if he belonged there. "Mr. Kline, this is an unexpected pleasure, but the timing is-"

"I'd say that the pleasure's all mine, Varney, but I'd be lying," Corbun snapped, feigning anger. "I take one step in and this place goes to hell!"

"Sir?" The guard looked from one of them to the other. "If you don't mind me asking, just who are you? I'll need to see some-"

"I'm Walter Kline, which means I'm the man who signs your paychecks, grunt!" Corbun yelled, brushing past King as if he weren't there and scowling at the guard. His nametag read _Wilcox, _which was a stroke of good luck he hadn't expected, and he ran with it instantly. "Wilcox, eh? One of the old head man's nephews? Stayed on after he left us in the lurch, did you?"

"Uh," the guard faltered, suddenly on the defensive. "Well, sir, I... I'd worked for U.S. Robotics so long that-"

"That you knew you wouldn't be able to find work anywhere else?" Corbun cut him off. "Well, fortunately, the rest of us have more standards than your uncle. Go on, get up there! And if anybody comes in who you don't recognize, you shoot first and ask questions later! Understood?"

"But..." The guard blurted, before giving up and nodding. "Sir."

"Good." Corbun smiled tightly. "It's entirely possible we have unfriendly company. Lighttech saboteurs or foreign spies or some anti-robotics freaks, I don't know. But whatever happens, don't leave your post. Come on, Varney." He nodded at King, and the two of them proceeded down the hall. A moment later, the lights went out, along with all other power in the building; more work from Hyde's team, whose next task was to take out the communications channel. Corbun barely managed to tear his headset off before the painfully loud static overrode any attempts at further communication.

"Halt!" Another voice called from further ahead, as they neared their destination. "Identify yourselves!"

"Thomas Varney," King said coldly, pulling out a falsified ID card.

"Walter Kline," Corbun followed up, doing the same. "And you? Let's hear it!"

"What?" The guard grunted, shining his flashlight on them both and scanning their cards quickly. "Ronald Sawyer. All right, wh-"

"We're under attack, that's what!" Corbun roared, as another explosion shook the building; this one was the work of Alexander's team, and had been placed against the south wall. "By robot masters!"

"No." The guard whispered, suddenly terrified. "No, not him. Not here."

"No, it's not," King told him. "He never uses the same models twice, and those are all old ones out there. Even so, humans don't stand a chance. We need to get these things up and active, now, or else none of us are going to make it out of this one alive. Come on, we're wasting time!" He forced the door to the guard's right open and proceeded inside, Corbun behind him, and after a hesitant moment the guard followed them into another long hall.

"Who's there?" Yet another guard shouted. "Ron, that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Mike," Ron yelled back as they approached. "These guys are-" Before he could finish, King acted, as soon as the other guard was within range. Seizing one by the throat in each hand, he slammed them against the wall, choking the consciousness from them. As soon as they were out, he dropped them to the floor.

"I can't say it feels good to put an end to my vow against violence," he murmured.

"Better to wound than to kill, my friend," Corbun told him as the two of them continued onward, the Robot Master forcing the next door open as he had the previous one. "And under the circumstances, it's a necessary sacrifice." Producing his own flashlight, he clicked it on and swept it across the much larger room they now stood in.

Dozens of deactivated faces stared back. Stone Men, Napalm Men, Wave Men, and all the other models U.S. Robotics had ever put out, stored here in preparation for the impending war. The Crystal Men and Gyro Men were the hardest for Corbun to look at; he'd designed those models himself, during one of his life's many low points.

"Yeager's team will be here in ten minutes," King told him, eyes just as busy. "We'll need to have these ones all warped away by the time they arrive."

"Then we'd better get started, hadn't we?" Corbun smiled. "I haven't missed a flight in my life, and I don't plan to start now. Time to wake up, boys."

**September 29th, 2184, 8:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

Mega Man X had lived a long life, and experienced many things throughout it, both good and bad. Particularly on the field of battle, he'd lived through just about anything and everything it was possible to, and even a couple it shouldn't have been. Of all the unpleasant experiences he'd had over the years, being frozen alive wasn't _quite _the worst of them, but it was certainly a contender for the top ten.

There was no real way to describe it to anybody who hadn't felt it that would be accurate. There was being cold, and the touch of the ice, but to feel it all around him like a second skin, an impenetrable shell that locked him in place and prevented even the slightest movement... it was a special kind of hell, one he'd experienced many times since Chill Penguin, the first actual Maverick he'd ever killed. The cold pressed in on him from all around, from anywhere and everywhere, and there was nothing he could do but endure it.

Slowly, sluggishly, thoughts crawling almost as if they were frozen as well, X realized that he was not alone. The ice was not limited to a thick casing over him, as it had always been before; it went further, as far as he could see, dark and cold and hard. And further on, others were trapped in the ice as well, as frozen and immobile as himself. One of the closest to him was a figure he'd thought he would never see again, red and white armor all sharp lines and edges, long blonde ponytail trailing behind him, arms folded across his chest and eyes closed.

_Zero!_ X tried to scream, but his mouth was sealed by the ice, as much as the rest of him. When he tried to open it, to speak, the ice _splintered_, hairline cracks running through it. The edges of it cut, slicing the skin around his face, and he immediately flinched back again. Too late, he realized that he was clad in his street clothes; he had no armor to protect him, no buster to heat the ice and melt it around him as he had always done before.

His best friend, his partner, his _brother _was only a few feet away from him, but there was nothing he could do to reach him.

Shifting his eyes, he saw another figure almost as painful to look at as Zero, just as close to him, on his right instead of his left. Alia, pink and white and black armor locked in place as well, like a doll or a statue. Her face was blank, as it often was, but there was nothing deliberate about it now; she seemed sleeping, or dead, or worse. Again, he tried to reach her, this time by moving his hand. And again, the ice cracked and cut, and he felt the synthblood start to drip.

The two of them were the closest to him, but further away, spread through the ice, were others. Everybody he'd known over all his years were there, both friends and enemies and those who'd been both in his time. Douglas and Signas, Simon and Lassiter, Cancer and Cain and others he'd almost forgotten were all there. But so were Double and Dynamo, Doppler and Vile, the X-Hunters and the Nightmare Police. The First Unit, and Repliforce, and all of the other enemies he'd defeated and destroyed as a Maverick Hunter.

And then his eyes met Sigma's, the furthest away of all across the infinite ice, and the Undying Maverick smiled, his own eyes open as well.

_Does it hurt? _His enemy's voice rang in his mind, dark and deep and cruel. Sigma was in his first body, the one X had known as friend and family before his betrayal, but that was not the worst of it. There was something _else _there, lurking around him like a mist, a dark shadow that clung to him like a cloak one moment and became almost humanoid in the next. A skeleton of black mist, clinging to Sigma's back, arms locked around his chest, staring and grinning at X as well. _It should. You've earned it a hundredfold by now._

_I don't want to hear that from you,_ X snarled back silently inside his mind. _If I've bought myself a place in hell through my actions, which I very well might have, yours should be infinitely worse. All that I've done, all the sins I've committed, knowing that I was damning myself, and accepting that... none of them would have been necessary, were it not for you. _

_Still that same old song and dance? _Sigma mocked, an echo of another voice accompanying his own. It was dark and sweet and melodious, a sultry sound like a kiss in the night, and it was horrible beyond imagination, as his skeletal partner's bare teeth clacked together. The Maverick Emperor's smile twisted, becoming a more familiar sneer, one X had seen a million times. _Grow up, X. We moved past that a long time ago, all of us. Who's to blame, who's the real monster, who started it, who finished it... none of that matters any more. _

_Is this the part where you tell me how much we're alike? _X snarked bitterly. _Everybody keeps on doing that. You'd think they'd learn a new line. _

_Anybody who does that is a fool, _Sigma agreed. _Anybody but me. And him. And you. The three of us _are _alike, though we share nothing in common. Nothing, save for the fact that we're the only ones who matter. You and me and Zero. We may be damned, but we'll never truly reach hell. _

_Bull. _X started to shake his head, on reflex, then stopped as the ice cut into his cheek. _That's total bullshit. As usual from you. We're _not _the only ones that matter. We never were, and we never will be. _Every _life has meaning, Sigma. They might only be part of _our _story for moments, but their own are still just as important. _

_Maybe, and maybe not, _Sigma conceded. _But that's not my point. I'm not talking about some detached, universal perspective. I was talking about _your _story. _Your _life. You keep walking, keep living, keep killing, and everybody else you know fades away in time. Everybody except me and Zero. We're the only ones who will always be there for you, sooner or later. We always come back... and everybody else disappears. _

_No, _X shouted back, as the others trapped in the ice began to melt away, as if they were _made _of ice themselves. One by one, the furthest away began to disappear, the ones he'd only known briefly. _No, Zero's gone. I have to let him go, to let him rest. And I have other friends, ones who won't leave me. Who won't _die _on me. _

_Delusion or desperation? _Sigma wondered, still watching him with both his own eyes and those of his dark companion. _Or both? Not that it matters. You _know _better. But then, perhaps you're right. Perhaps Zero _has _left you, just like everybody else does, and it's just you and me together forever. Wouldn't _that _be an ironic hell for both of us? _

_No, _X whispered, staring at Zero again, and then back at Alia, as the disappearances started to move closer. _No, I won't lose him again. I won't lose her, either. I can't, I..._ He tried to move forward, and this time the cracks in the ice were larger, spread further, and cut deeper.

_You _might _be able to reach one of them in time, _Sigma told him smugly. _If you really try. If you don't care what happens to you. But both of them? Even you can't save _everybody, _X. You know that by now. Which one is it going to be? _

X didn't bother responding, or even thinking. He just stared at one, and then the other, and before he could think twice he decided. Whispering an apology as the ice sliced his lips, he lunged at Zero again, and the ice _shattered _around him. Cold blades fell forward, slicing and shredding, but he pressed forward through them despite the pain. Synthskin fell away, synthblood spilled, but still he continued, as the disappearances grew closer and closer. Pain like he'd never felt before tore him apart, but still he slammed himself against the ice, breaking a path to Zero with his own body.

As he reached the brother he thought he'd never see again, he saw Alia disappear out of the corner of his eye.

And then Zero's eyes opened as well, blue and wild and merciless, and his teeth were bared in a feral grin.

_Sorry. _Sigma laughed, as Zero's hands wrapped around the shredded remains of X's throat. _Wrong choice. _

"Wake up!" The base computer's voice rang in X's ears as he shot bolt upright in his bed. "Wake up! It is now 0800 hours, and you have requested a wakeup call so that you will not be late for today's meeting in-"

"Enough," X said tersely, and the voice fell silent. Sighing, he wiped the sweat from his brow and climbed out of bed. "A nightmare. Again. I'd think I'd be used to them by now, and yet..." Shaking his head, he exchanged his sleepclothes for armor, and twitched slightly as a stab of pain shot through his head. _Damn. It's still happening. I need to talk to Lifesaver; it's not just my imagination. _That could wait until later, though; for now, he had duties to attend to.

Those unfamiliar with the workings of the MHHQ tended to assume that the War Room was the be-all end-all of upper-level business, but that was far from the truth. For many important matters, the MHHQ maintained several "null rooms," chambers that were unmonitored by the base's computer; in fact, they were deep underground and isolated so as to be completely safe from electronic surveillance, one of the late Dr. Cain's many strokes of wisdom.

The largest of these was the meeting room where all of the HQ's top brass met at the end of each month. Thirty Captains, four leading staff members who held equivalent rank, and Signas himself all convened to discuss anything of importance that had happened in the past month, along with upcoming events. It was boring as hell, and X couldn't help but wonder how Zero would have felt about it; none of the more restless Captains enjoyed it, and the Crimson Hunter's patience-or lack of it-would have put them all to shame.

Ever since Signas had started enforcing the monthly meetings, X had taken his place at the Commanding Officer's right hand against his preference; he'd have been more comfortable seated halfway down in the middle of the rest of the Captains, who were all arranged numerically. The only upside was that Alia sat on his own right, followed by Douglas; both of them gave him smiles as he sat down. Simon sat opposite him, with Lifesaver and Lassiter coming next, and then the rest of the Captains, from Sargesso in the 2nd all the way down to Ganesheriff of the 30th.

The first half of the meeting was about as exciting as watching treeborgs grow; occasionally something interesting happened, but most of it was just more of the same. About half of the Units had seen action over the course of the last months, and Signas called up all of their Captains to give reports on what that had entailed. Fortunately, most of them shared X's opinion on the tedium of such things, and they tended to keep their turns as short as possible.

"Now that that's over with, let's move on," Signas said once the last of them had finished her report. "There are only a few things coming up that we're making a conscious effort to prepare for. First off, we suspect that the armed group of Mavericks who have labeled themselves 'the New Maverick Nation' are planning further action."

"Christ, not those dickheads again," the Captain of the 13th muttered as groans filled the room. Oscar "Pitbull" Hayes was the only human in the room aside from Simon, burly and pugnacious with iron-gray hair, a lantern jaw, broad brow and a repeatedly broken nose; his fists were massive and scarred, and his stomach still iron-hard despite recent expansion. Leader of the only Unit that allowed humans as well as reploids in its ranks, he was the fourth of his family to hold that rank, following in the footsteps of both his parents as well as his grandfather, Randolph "Bulldog" Hayes. Many Hunters referred to Mutt Unit as the "Hayes Dynasty" now, though never where Pitbull could hear them.

"What he said," Suzy, from the 8th, agreed a little ways up the table. "Are those idiots seriously still alive?" A more asymmetrical pair could not be found in the room; unlike Pitbull, Suzy was the last person one would expect to hold her rank, based on appearances. Clad from head to toe in bright, hot-pink armor with a long blonde ponytail, her large, innocent blue eyes gave her an air of cheerfulness that hid a cold, cunning mind; more than a few Mavericks had fallen for her act, and had had just enough time to realize their mistake before their inevitable deaths.

"That seems to be the case," Alia murmured. "And likely will as long as their leader remains active. You remember him from last month's meeting. Lucallion, former Interior Minister of France until his corruption was discovered and he left the country one step ahead of his own former men. It seems that despite his organization's repeated failures, he maintains an inexplicable gift for persuading others to follow his banner; he keeps on finding more Mavericks from somewhere."

"And we're absolutely sure they're not infected?" Lassiter grunted. "Not that that surprises me. Me and my boys wiped them in about five minutes flat over in Toronto. Easiest job we ever did, and that includes the time at Coney Island before Eurasia."

"Ah, yes," X murmured. "I _remember _that one. Or, to be more specific, I remember Zero _telling _me about it. The incident with the merry-go-round?"

"Yep."

"Positive," Lifesaver said, ignoring that. "We've run checks on one of them from every time they've reared their heads, save for the one that X dealt with personally. That's three strikes against the theory, now, which is enough for me."

"So they're just a group of clowns who keep on trucking because their boss is staying out of the line of fire so far, huh?" Douglas made a face. "We'll get him eventually. Sooner or later he'll slip up and that'll be that."

"Indeed." Signas nodded. "Unfortunately, the other current situation will not be quite so easily resolved. I met with the leading officials of the Japanese government yesterday, and what I learned there was what cause me to move this meeting up a day." He took a deep breath before continuing. "The government has decided that they will soon attempt to form a merger with Korea, with themselves as the dominant party."

"Merger?" Pitbull yelled as the room erupted in complaints and insults; even so, his voice was clearly the loudest. "More like annex!"

"I must confess, I had a similar reaction," Signas raised his own voice, and the din settled down, though there were still a few angry mutterings here and there. "While it is true that Korea's ability to cope with the encroaching wasteland has been on a sharp decline over the past decade, if and when they decide to unite with another nation, it should be their decision and on their terms. Aggressiveness on this issue is a no-win situation."

"Exactly how aggressive are we talking here?" Simon asked, frowning slightly; from him, that was as telling as a scowl on Pitbull. "How soon are they planning to make their move, and in what form?"

"That, fortunately, is still under discussion." Signas explained. "If we act quickly, it may still be possible to head this off completely. I wasn't the only one there to express opposition to it, and quite a few others looked undecided. I believe it's time we gave the government another reminder of just how dependent on us they are. Subtly, of course."

"Damn." Lassiter snapped his fingers. "For a moment there I thought you were gonna let us park a Rogumer-class dreadnought on their front lawn or something. I would have volunteered, even."

"If you moved up this month's meeting a day for this, I assume you have something in mind," Alia told Signas. "Either today or tomorrow."

"Tonight." Signas nodded. "Cultural Minister Mishikawa is throwing a party. Perhaps an unveiling would be a better word; apparently, his brother-an archaeologist-managed to find some sort of highly valuable artifact from the past, that they've kept quite about it until now. At any rate, Mishikawa is making a social occasion of it, and he's invited me, along with 'an entourage,' should anybody wish to accompany me."

"Oh, no." Lassiter shook his head. "Unless it's an order, sir, I'm out. The last time I went to one of those fancy dealies I woke up the next morning hanging from a fountain. My tux was ruined, too, and it was a rental."

"What he said," Suzy agreed. "Getting together for some fun is one thing, but those kinds of stuffed shirt affairs? Yeesh."

"Actually, I don't think that's quite what Commander Signas was thinking of," Douglas suggested dryly. "He said subtle, remember? Turning up to a shindig like that with half a dozen Captains in rented tuxes is kind of the exact opposite of subtle."

"Oh, good," Simon murmured. "I wasn't the only one thinking it."

"Indeed." Signas nodded. "I was thinking, in fact, of the two of you, along with Lifesaver and Alia. You're all well-known enough to make our point clear, without actually coming across as threatening." He paused for a moment. "And X, of course."

"Wait, what?" X blurted out. "Why me?"

"Did he seriously just ask that?" One of the other Captains from the far end of the table asked; X couldn't see who.

"Why _not _you?" Douglas smirked at him. "You're Mega Man X. The big blue. Hell, they'll probably be _happy _to have you there. Besides, if I have to spend all evening wearing a monkey suit, you should too."

"It'll be fine," Alia assured him. "I'll be with you, after all." She paused for a moment. "Along with everybody else, of course."

"Of course," X agreed quickly, as everybody else at the table found something else to look at, even Signas.

"Right." She nodded, before smirking slightly. "So don't worry about making any faux pases. I've got you covered. Routine, really."

"We done here?" Lassiter asked dryly. "Nothing personal, but I'd kind of like to get out of this room before this gets any more..." He waggled a hand in the air.

"Any more _what_, Lassiter?" X asked him, deceptively calm.

"Uh." Lassiter looked down the table. "Not sure, actually. There's a word, but it's not coming to me. Any ideas?"

"Do we _look _suicidal to you, Lassiter?" Another Captain asked sarcastically.

"Enough." Signas stood up. "Be ready to go by 1800 hours. Douglas, you're in charge of our transportation. Make sure we have something appropriate, and I _don't _mean a Rogumer-class dreadnought."

"We don't really have any stretch limos or anything on hand, chief," Douglas commented, frowning slightly. "I'll see what I can do, but no promises. Might have to end up calling in a few favors or something."

"As long as there aren't any Mavericks involved, I don't want to know." Signas shook his head. "Dismissed."

"It's been quite some time since I've been to one of these occasions," Simon was telling Lifesaver as everybody stood as well and the Captains started to trail out. "I do hope they still have those little pecan cakes. I always liked those."

"I'd be more worried about the quality of the synthesizers they'll be using to produce them," Lifesaver advised him. "Personally, I'm not looking forward to this. There are many much more productive uses for my time than political socializing."

"About that," X said to him. "I don't suppose you have some time later today for a checkup? I'm having some problems. Nothing life-threatening, but I'm not sure what it is, and it's getting to the point where I'd like to know."

"Would 1500 hours work?" Lifesaver asked, nodding slightly. "I'm busy until then, but I have the rest of the afternoon free afterwards."

"That's fine," X agreed. "I'll see you then. And tonight, I guess." He lowered his voice to an irritated mutter as he and Alia left the room. "I don't believe this. A fancy dress party. _Me. _Did I do something to irritate him recently?"

"I doubt it." Alia shook her head, looking amused. "As difficult as this may be for you to imagine, sometimes things like this happen, with no ulterior motive."

"Yeah, yeah." X scratched the back of his head. "I don't even know if I _own _a suit."

"You do."

"...Right."

**September 29th, 2184, 11:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"Countess," King said by way of greeting, inclining his head towards her, though he made no other moves. Ever since the death of Mecha's other founder, decades ago, he had never once moved from his throne in the Dark Hall, and Countess wasn't going to bet on him doing so any time soon. "What news do you bring?"

"Only a few things, sir," Countess replied, looking down at her datapad; for various reasons, she found it difficult to maintain eye contact with her ruler for long. "Hopefully of only minor importance. Tensions between Districts Six and Eight, and Districts Seven and Nine, have subsided. With luck, the incident is buried, and won't arise again."

"We can hope so." King smiled briefly. "I suppose it's to be expected, every now and then. In helping them rise to the level of men and of reploids, they adopt the bad along with the good. I'm just glad nobody was seriously injured." He raised an eyebrow. "What caused the situation in the first place? Nobody ever actually told me that."

"We didn't?" Countess blurted, then blushed, speaking quickly to cover her embarrassment. "Apologies, sir. My comrades who oversaw those districts-well, probably not Baron, but the other three-were somewhat more publicly vocal than they should have been about their recent disagreements. Some of the Awakened in those districts took the offense to extend to themselves as well. At first it was verbal only, but eventually..."

"I begin to see why none of you wished to tell me until the incident had already been taken care of." King frowned now. "Sometimes, Countess, I wonder if Trenton knew the full extent of his own plans. The eight of you are the family I never truly had, and I am grateful for all of you, and yet at the same time, it seems as if you and Prince are the only true adults. Even Duke and Marquis... as brilliant as they are in other fields, their level of maturity remains below par."

"We're sheltered, sir," Countess said bluntly, deliberately ignoring the compliment, and the heat it had continued to bring to her cheeks. "That's the long and short of it. Normal reploids grow up in far less time than humans because the world forces them to. If they don't, they don't last long. Viscount and Margravine are the worst, but even the rest of us... we haven't _needed _to grow up, and so we didn't. That's probably going to cost us, eventually."

"We can only hope that they figure it out quickly, when the time comes, then." King sighed. "Continue."

"Speaking of those two..." Countess glanced at her datapad again. "As far as we can tell, the MHHQ hasn't been putting any particular effort into locating them. They still have them on their watchlist, but that's all. Under normal circumstances, I'd guess that they would forget them entirely within a few years, but since you don't think we'll _have _a few years..."

"I _know _we won't," King corrected her quietly. "It is not a matter of speculation, Countess. The time is coming, and coming soon."

"As you say, sir," Countess agreed, doing her best to mask her discomfort. She trusted her ruler implicitly, but she was a practical reploid whose life was built on logic and reason and cold hard fact, and any mention of the one Mecha's citizenry knew as The Reaper bothered her, no matter how many times King assured her that he truly did exist. "At any rate, we'll still want to keep them down here, but the good news is that they don't seem unduly suspicious. Either about them, or about their purpose, which is to say, us."

"There was another situation which came up, was there not?" King recalled. "A few days ago. We found another."

"Indeed." Countess nodded. "The situation is somewhat different from the previous incident. Negotiation and subtlety would have availed us nothing; it is highly unlikely that the humans who unearthed it would be interested in selling it. Taking that into account, we dispatched Earl and Baron to handle this one."

"Earl and Baron..." King murmured. "Ordinarily, they would not be my first choice, immediately following Margavine and Viscount's slip-up. Subtlety is hardly their specialty. If doing things without attracting notice is out of the question, however... yes, they were probably the best ones for this. So long as fate does not conspire against us again, it will hopefully attract only minor attention, without being connected to the previous incident."

"That was our thought process as well, sir." Countess nodded, smiling slightly. "Say what you will about Earl and Baron, but they get the job done."

"And some situations call for that mindset," King said, eyes lost in some memory of the past. "Very well. Inform me as soon as they return. Hopefully, we won't need to call another meeting to discuss problems that arose during the operation, this time."

"I think we're all hoping for that, sir," Countess replied wryly, stepping away. "I'll get back to work, then." King said nothing more, and did not move, as she departed. Once the doors had closed behind her, she narrowed her eyes and raised her voice. "All right, you two. Get out here."

"Busted," Margravine muttered as she and Vicount stepped out from a pair of alcoves in the hall. Despite her wry tone, she was smiling as cheerfully as ever, as was he. "I guess we kind of asked for that one."

"I'm not quite sure what gave us away, but whatever it was, it seems to have been dreadfully obvious," Vicount agreed. "I don't suppose you would care to illuminate us, dear Countess?"

"You're bad enough already," she told them, shaking her head. "I'm not going to go making it even worse."

"Drat." He snapped his fingers. "Our nefarious plot, completely ruined."

"Stop that," Margravine advised him. "If you take that _too _far, you'll just irritate her, and then she won't tell us anything."

"Oh?" Countess smiled now. "And what makes you think I would do that in the first place?"

"Because we've been on good behavior," Margravine said, then paused. "Well, good for _us, _anyway. We took care of that situation between our Awakened, and Earl's and Baron's, didn't we? That should earn us at least a _little_ good will."

"Despite the fact that you were the ones who _caused _that situation in the first place?" Countess reminded them. "You're just lucky Earl and Baron automatically assumed that they were equally responsible, without considering the possibility of a specific origin."

"We certainly didn't do so intentionally," Viscount protested. "Surely you must have more faith in us than _that. _Yes, yes, perhaps we said some things we shouldn't have where our Awakened could hear, especially those with the fiercest tempers. But once we realized just what had happened as a result, we immediately acted to prevent a reoccurance."

"We even disciplined Foreman and Frosty," Margravine added, referring to the Burner Man and Freeze Man who'd initiated the fight between a dozen Robot Masters two weeks back. "And you know how much we hate doing that."

"You _are _allergic to discipline," Countess admitted. "Giving _and _receiving. All right, what did you want to know?"

"What do we _always _want to know?" Margavine asked. "What's going on up top, with Earl and Baron? They left before we could ask them. Not that doing so with Earl would have been particularly productive, but Baron's usually more friendly."

"Unless somebody's managed to irritate him recently," Viscount reminded her. "Which we might have arguably done. Even so, he's not the type to hold grudges, but the two of them took out of here as if whoever caught their interest was due to be slagged tonight, and nobody could possibly be _that _stupid." He thought about that for a moment. "I hope."

"Optimism's rubbing off on you," Countess commented dryly. "Although I'll admit, it's not quite _that _bad."

"Not quite, but close?" Margravine guessed.

"But close," she agreed. "We didn't find out about this one until it was almost too late. Some second-rate archaeologist managed to blunder onto it completely by accident, and unlike James Cain, he didn't do the smart thing and announce his discovery immediately. He handed it over to his brother instead, and the two of them are having a party tonight to unveil it."

"Well, there are worse excuses for a social occasion," Viscount said, shrugging. "However, I take it that there are additional complications."

"Correct." Countess nodded, starting forward down the hallway; as always, there were a hundred things she had to do, and she'd wasted enough time just standing there. Viscount and Margravine turned and kept pace a foot or so behind her as she continued. "For one, the brother in question is the Japanese Cultural Minister."

"Politics." Margravine made a disgusted noise. "I _hate _politics. All right, so the security'll be heavier than we'd like, but Earl and Baron know how to deal with that sort of thing if they have to. That doesn't explain _why _they have to. Why can't they just wait until after the big shindig to make the snatch? That's the way we'd do it."

"Preferable, if possible," Countess agreed. "Unfortunately, it's not. The Robot Master in question is a DWN008. A Quick Man."

"Oh, damn," Viscount muttered. "And allow me a guess. He wasn't just a backup measure, like the ones Snake brings in. He actually saw active duty in Dr. Wily's service, during the Robot Rebellions, before whatever it was that buried him happened."

"Our analysis of the site in which he was unearthed indicates that that's highly likely." Countess nodded grimly. "The morons who found him don't have any idea just what that means, but others will, once they see him tonight. And once they do, they'll want him destroyed immediately as a preventative measure. Especially those who are old enough to actually remember the Robot Rebellions; there are still one or two of them serving in the Japanese government, thanks to modern medical science."

"They'll take one look at him and either keel over on the spot, or start screaming like the sky's falling ahead of schedule," Margravine agreed. "All right, then, we can forget about feeling jealous. Even if we'd still been in consideration for this one, it probably would have been passed to Earl and Baron anyways. This situation is more their game than ours."

"Unfortunately, that seems to be the case," Countess said wryly; everybody knew how Earl and Baron _preferred _to do things, and while she normally had to repeatedly instruct them _not _to, this was an exception. "Not at all a desirable set of circumstances, but we don't have any choice in the matter."

"How callous of fate, not to consult us on the matter," Viscount drawled. "We shall have to forward a complaint immediately."

"Don't make me hit you," Margravine told him. "Well, at any rate, we're doing the best we can with what we have. Perhaps we'll get lucky and turn out to have been wrong, once we get him down here, and this'll be his first activation after all."

"Yes, and perhaps we'll turn out to have been wrong about our long-term plans, and none of that will be necessary, after all," Countess said sarcastically.

"And people say _I'm _cynical," Viscount murmured.

"You are," Margravine told him. "It's just that I'm trying to cure you of it, or at least temper it to the point where it's not annoying. It's a work in progress."

"Many things are," Countess noted. "Speaking of which, don't you have actual _duties_ to be seeing to? I know I do."

"Yes, yes." Viscount sighed. "I suppose you _did_ grant our request, so we _should _return the favor. Do try not to overdo it."

"No promises," Countess replied as she turned to her lab.

One thing she had learned was that no matter how much time she had, it would never be enough.

**September 29th, 2184, 4:00 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Hey, Alia!" A call came her way, and she glanced up from her terminal to see three of her Navigators, as she'd come to think of them, clustered by one of the doors and smiling at her. It was Donia, naturally, who'd hailed her, smirking as she waved theatrically. A sickle of dark violet hair over one eye went well with her jet-black armor, though like all Navigators, she wore a headset instead of a helmet. "We're heading over to Pugs' for a round. Coming?"

"I really shouldn't," Alia replied, forcing herself to look serious. "I have that thing to go to in two hours."

"It doesn't take you _that _long to get ready, does it?" The other girl teased her. One of the seniormost Navigators, Donia was probably Alia's closest friend among them, and the closest thing she had to a second-in-command, which made her completely oblivious to the definition of "insubordination" where she was involved. "Come on, Alia. One round, huh? I'll even buy. It's not like you're planning on a romantic evening, just you and some handsome devil, now is it?"

"If I agree to one round, will you stop now, before I _have _to write you up?" Alia asked patiently, at least for the moment.

"One round with some buddies." Donia nodded quickly. "Deal."

"Let's go, then, before it gets any later." Alia stood, stretched, and glanced at another one of the Navigators still sitting at her desk. "Lianna, you have the watch."

"Yes, ma'am." She nodded without commenting.

"What's happening tonight?" Fio, a short, cute reploid with a bob of black hair and armor of gray and blue, asked as the four of them left the War Room. Despite her innocent appearance, she was one of the biggest flirts in the building, and seemed to have a new boyfriend every month. "Is there some bit of hot gossip I haven't heard about?"

"Our boss here got invited to a big shindig tonight," Donia explained, clapping Alia on the shoulder. "Political and everything. Cultural Minister Mishikawa's throwing it. She might even have to-shock and awe-wear a _dress_."

"I can hurt you," Alia said flatly. "It's not that big a deal. Like Donia said, it's political, and my presence is as much a part of that as anybody else. Commander Signas is the one who actually has the invitation, and he wants to bring company that won't set off any alarms. Which basically lets out all of the actual Hunters."

"Yes, I don't think Lassiter and Karnack would fit in," Lily murmured. Tall, slim and quiet as a general rule, a consummate professional with uniform ice-blue armor, hair and eyes, she kept her distance from most of the building's other inhabitants, but Donia's cheerfully aggressive friendship had eventually worn down her resistance and drawn her into their inner circle. "Of course, there's something more to it, or else Donia wouldn't have actually gotten to you with that remark earlier. What's the rest of the story?"

"Wait, I got to her?" Donia remarked, blinking with feigned innocence. "How can you tell?"

"Practice."

"Remind me again why I put up with the lot of you?" Alia sighed as they walked into the _Last Round, _the MHHQ's on-site bar. Run by an unshakable canid by the appropriate name of Pugs, it had been there for as long as Alia had, and probably longer; it wouldn't surprise her if Cain had added it the day after one of the early Maverick Uprisings had been concluded. This early in the afternoon, there were only a couple of off-duty Hunters here and there around the old-timey setting, designed to take after an earlier age, and the four of them took their usual booth in the back without a word from any.

"Because deep under that cold, professional facade, you really do love us," Donia said, exaggeratedly sweet. "And because you need _some _friends, or else you'd go crazy, and we're the best of the options available to you in a place like this. You _could _go hang out with some of the Hunter girls instead, if we're _that _annoying."

"Tempting, but I'll pass," Alia said, catching Pugs' eye as he polished a glass and holding up four fingers, to which he nodded. "I tried that once. Problem was, the girls in question were from the 00, 21st and 13th."

"No further explanation required _or _desired." Donia winced. "That must have been before any of us joined up. I'd have _remembered _that one." Her mischievous smirk returned. "Anyways, what our chief here left out is that there is, in fact, _one _Captain who'll be accompanying her and Signas to tonight's party."

"And Douglas, and Lifesaver," Alia added as Pugs brought their drinks over. One of the first things she always made sure to tell new Navigators was that everybody in the HQ, male or female, drank beer, and liked it. It wasn't so much a gender thing as it was about being soldiers, and those who supported them, so she'd grown used to it. "Don't forget them."

"Thanks, Pugs," Donia said, winking as she passed him her card. "There's enough on there to pay off my tab, too. Appreciate it." She looked back at Alia. "Also true. But like I was saying, don't forget the last member of your little entourage. Big Blue himself. Do you suppose he is, really? Big, I mean. You'd _think_ so, but that's not always a guarantee, you know?"

"I have no opinion on the matter whatsoever," Alia retorted, rolling her eyes and taking a drink from her beer; despite her reluctance, she was glad she had it, if _this _was the way the conversation would be going. "And _you _should know better than to listen to the kind of gossip that belongs in the tabloids."

"Do people still even make those?" Fio frowned. "Tabloids, I mean."

"People will _always _make tabloids," Lily assured her. "If the day comes that human and reploidkind are reduced to only two living sentients, one of them will be publishing trash about the other one."

"Why print it, when you can just say it?" Donia pointed out. "Come _on, _Alia. You're the only girl in this building with a shot at him. When are you going to take it, huh?"

"To refresh your memory, for the millionth time, there's a word for that, and it's not a good one," Alia pointed out, voice growing slightly colder now; there was only so much she was willing to take, even from Donia. "Even _if _I were inclined towards that, or if he was, which neither of us are, we'd know better. It's not going to happen, Donia. Get used to it."

"All right, all right." Donia raised her hands placatingly. "Can you blame a girl for wondering?" She took a sip from her mug, eyes thoughtful now. "He's not gay, is he? I mean, you know, those stories about him and Zero..."

Fio snorted her beer.

"_Donia_," Alia said warningly.

"You'd better listen to her," Lily suggested mildly. "She has that look in her eye like she's about one more joke away from pouring her mug over your head. Again. Besides, I think we've used up our allotted time for talking about boys for the day. We could discuss fashion and makeup next, get those out of the way too."

"Gag me with a can of Pabst," Donia muttered. "Okay, I get the hint. And speaking of getting hints, when are the two of you going to join me and Lily down at the shooting range, anyways? I don't _have_ any more ways to be subtle about that."

"That was supposed to be subtle?" Alia raised an eyebrow, calming down, though she took another drink anyways. "Do you have any idea how much trouble it was explaining why there was a magrifle in my locker? You're lucky I didn't just say it was yours."

"That's because you're a better friend than I am," Donia teased her. "Probably a better person in general, really."

"No comment on that, either." Alia rolled her eyes. "At any rate, as I've told you before, the chances of that being relevant are equivalent to those of Sigma being elected president of the United States."

"Somehow, I don't think they're quite _that _low," Fio murmured.

"Close enough." Alia shrugged. "We're not Hunters, Donia. We're Navigators. We're meant for support, not direct combat. If the situation ever arises where _we _would need to be, it would already be bad enough that we wouldn't make much of a difference."

"It's never bad enough that we just give up and say, 'oh well,' and you know it," Donia said, her own eyes narrowing now, though her smile remained. "That's not the way the Maverick Hunters work. Never has been, never will be. Why do you think Commander Signas is always training with Lassiter every chance he gets? I'm pretty sure if it got so bad that it was down to us and him, we'd be obligated to get in the way, and I can't see why you _wouldn't _want to know what you're doing with a magrifle in that situation."

"That situation isn't going to happen," Alia said firmly. "Ever. That's what we have actual Hunters for. Not to say that our jobs aren't just as important as theirs, but you don't see them trying to be Navigators, and you're not going to see me trying to be a Hunter."

"I'm with her." Fio nodded. "Alia's right. There's a reason they don't assign most of us to individual Units, after all."

"Don't bother," Lily told Donia, shaking her head. "They're not going to listen yet. We'll try them again after something terrible happens. Maybe that'll change their minds. Assuming we all live, of course."

"Okay, now _I _want to talk about something else," Donia commented. "Again. Did I ever tell you how much I hate it when you get too depressing?" She glanced at Alia. "Anything else coming up on the schedule we should prepare ourselves for?"

"Commander Signas thinks we're going to see some more business from the New Maverick Nation," Alia said, keeping her voice carefully level as she smiled. "Would anybody like to call dibs on that ahead of time?"

"Ugh," Donia made a face and chugged the last of her beer. "Never mind. I'm sorry I asked."

"Didn't you work with the 30th that time they chased those idiots out of Dublin?" Fio recalled. "Back in August?"

"Yes, and by the end of it I needed a lot more than one drink," Donia said flatly. "Their leader was some moron who called himself Manduck, or something."

"I believe you mean Marduk," Lily corrected her, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, probably." Donia waggled a hand in the air flippantly. "He didn't look all that much like a duck. Not that it mattered, then or now. Ganesheriff steamrolled him in about thirty seconds flat, literally."

"He does tend to do that." Fio nodded. "Look on the bright side. Better them than anybody who's actually competent."

"Exactly." Alia finished her beer as well. "As much as they irritate us, they can keep doing so for as long as they want, as long as they're the only ones. I'll take them over another Maverick Uprising any day."

"Yeah, yeah, listen to miss serious and professional here," Donia joked. "Going to get ready for the big night now?"

"Oh, yes, a thrilling evening of socializing with the likes of Minister Mishikawa," Alia deadpanned, standing up. "I prefer to think of it as unpaid overtime."

"She has a point," Fio admitted.

"Several, I'd say," Lily added. "One for every person there she'll have to pretend to like."

"All right, all right, I know when I'm beat." Donia held up her hands. "Go on, then." She smirked again suddenly. "After all, better you than me."

"Remind me to talk to Signas about cutting your pay," Alia retorted as she left the room, although she wasn't quite able to hide her smile.

**September 29th, 2184, 8:00 PM **

**Cultural Minister Mishikawa's House, Tokyo **

"Alia," X murmured under his breath.

"Yes?"

"As Captain of the 17th Unit, I hereby order you to kill me."

It had been an hour and a half since they'd arrived, and every minute since had been boring at best. The six of them had convened in the garage on time, to find that Douglas had indeed managed to arrange for a stretch limo from somewhere; the fact that it was missing its license plates went uncommented on. Upon arrival, they'd received a welcome that had been a little too hearty to be genuine before proceeding inside to circulate with the other guests, talking lightly and sipping on punch with about as much alcohol content as diluted wine coolers.

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to decline that order," Alia replied dryly. The two of them were refilling their cups, smiling politely at passersby; for the moment, they were free of making conversation with anybody else, though that wasn't likely to last for long. She'd worn a sparkly black dress from knee to neck that left her arms bare, along with simple gold earrings, though she'd drawn the line at heels, just in case something went wrong. "Commander Signas specifically vetoed that one before we left the MHHQ."

"Sometimes he's too smart for his own good," X groused. His suit was uncomfortable, he detested the venue, and he couldn't even get drunk; not that he would have, but the temptation would have been nice. On top of everything else, their host was playing up his reason for calling the party as much as possible, drawing it out and smirking as a few of the guests started to become visibly impatient. "I don't suppose there's any chance I could get away with ordering Minister Mishikawa to get on with it?"

"Doubtful," she drawled. "Besides, it's not _entirely_ his fault. There was some sort of mix-up with the caterers, so the dinner is actually being delayed even further than he wanted it to be. Oops, incoming."

"Mega Man X," a voice from behind him said, and X turned around to see a large man with short-clipped, iron gray hair in a similarly colored suit sticking out his hand. Despite his age, he was built almost as muscularly as Pitbull, and though his smile was friendly, his eyes were calculating. "I hadn't heard that you were much for this sort of thing."

"Usually I'm not," X admitted, forcing a smile of his own and shaking his hand; he was familiar from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place him. "Unfortunately, Commander Signas insisted. I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"A few times, but only briefly," the man explained, chuckling. "Sawatari Shino, Tokyo Police Department."

"Commissioner Sawatari," Alia came to X's rescue, walking around the table to join them, smiling much more convincingly than either had. "It's been a while."

"That it has." Sawatari nodded politely to her before looking back at X. "Orders, eh? Well, sometimes a little diplomacy goes a long way, especially these days. The world's changed a lot since the days when the Global Defense Council was running the show." He winked. "Back when they were the only ones you had to worry about."

"If you'd told me then that those times would be _simple _compared to what was in store for me in the future, I'd have laughed," X conceded wryly. "And yet, things just keep on getting more and more complicated. For all of us."

"That's the truth!" Sawatari agreed, laughing again. "I wanted to thank you, by the way. Well, not you specifically, but the Hunters, for helping my boys out with that one mess a week or so ago, down at that crooked laundromat on 10th Avenue. That could have gotten very ugly if... which Unit was it again?"

"The 23rd," Alia recalled. "The Coldbloods, we call them."  
>"Those're the ones." Sawatari snapped his fingers. "Really saved our bacon. How'd you know those Mavericks would be packing that much heat, anyways? We had no idea until they showed up and clued us in."<p>

"We brought in the ones who sold it to them a few hours earlier," X explained. "As soon as they talked, one of our Navigators realized that your boys were heading in to bust them, and we figured out right away what would happen if we didn't lend you a hand." He made a face. "I'll return the gratitude for not making a scene about that. Technically, we were out of our jurisdiction by not waiting for you to call us first."

"We'd have lost men, if it hadn't been for them," Sawatari brushed it off. "I might be a bit bullheaded every now and then, but not that much. Besides, like I said, the world's changed, and it's still changing right now. Faster and faster, every day, it seems like. Getting hung up on that sort of thing when lives are on the line... we can't afford that any more, any of us. Any time something like that comes up again, don't worry about that. Just come on down. Or, hell, any time you'd like a little backup in the area, too. We don't mind."

"Well, that's very generous of you, Commissioner." X smiled again, glancing at Alia, who nodded slightly. "We always appreciate it whenever local authorities are willing to cooperate with us, and that goes double in our own backyard."

"Unless I'm senile already, seems to me like any day now, we could both wind up needing all the help we can get," Sawatari said, frowning slightly. "Hopefully it goes without saying, but I just wanted you to know that we've got your backs around here, whatever happens. The rest of the government might not appreciate the Maverick Hunters enough in my book, but we're not going to go making the same mistake."

"I'm glad somebody does." X nodded. "I'll remember that, Commissioner."

"Just Sawatari's fine, X," the old man told him, clapping him on the shoulder. "You both enjoy the evening, hear? Don't worry, that peacock won't be able to resist showing off his tail for too much longer." Chuckling to himself once more, he walked off.

"All right, just what exactly was that all about?" X murmured under his breath once the Commissioner was out of earshot. "I'm assuming there was some sort of subtext there, but whatever it was, it flew right over my head."

"You could say that, yes," Alia agreed quietly, still watching Sawatari's back as he continued mingling with the other guests. "In layman's terms, should a conflict of opinions arise here in Japan, Commissioner Sawatari was assuring us of his intentions to throw in on our side early on. Whether he was being _honest_ or not is another story; it's difficult to say with that old ape. Don't be fooled by his 'just an old beat cop' act. He's one of the slipperiest customers here, and considering where we are, that's saying something."

"I'll say." X made a face. "Does _everybody _here except us have some sort of an agenda?"

"_Maybe_ not the catering staff, but I wouldn't hold my breath," she joked before growing serious again. "And I wouldn't be so quick to exclude us. Just because we don't know what our agenda is doesn't mean we don't have one. And even if we don't, sometimes that counts as an agenda in its own right."

"I hate this." X groaned, putting a hand to his face.

"If it makes you feel better, so does Lifesaver," Alia told him. "Especially since I think Douglas is trying to find him a date."

"Seriously?" X followed her gaze to where their two fellow staff members were chatting with a couple of young women, one human and one reploid; a third was arm-in-arm with Douglas, who looked as carefree as ever despite his tux as he nudged Lifesaver in the ribs; it was more than a little strange to see him without his helmet and glasses. By contrast, the medic's face was awkward and uncomfortable, though he seemed to be doing his best to be polite; he, at least, had been lucky enough to find a suit the same color as his armor. "Looks like it. Better him than us."

"I suppose I can't argue that one," Alia agreed. "Did you see where Commander Signas and Simon went? I lost track of them while we were talking with Sawatari, and I doubt the Commander would be happy with me if I hacked into the security footage."

"Alia." X gave her a long glance; it wasn't often that he got the chance to play the disapproving adult to her.

"What?" She replied innocently.

"Never mind." He shook his head. "Anyway, I think I saw them heading out back with our host. With any luck, Signas will tell him to just get on with it, already. _He _could get away with that, couldn't he?"

"Possibly, but somehow, I doubt he would even if he could," Alia said dryly. "Call it a hunch."

"Hey, a guy can hope, right?" X shrugged. "Oh, there they come. I was right." Simon was hanging back to continue talking with Mishikawa, while Signas walked ahead of them both; the old man was the only one of them who actually looked natural in his suit, but Signas came closer than any of the rest of them. As they walked to the center of the room, Simon joined Signas, and Mishikawa stood back, clearing his throat.

"Your attention, please!" The politician said loudly, and everybody turned to look at him. "Thank you all for coming. Dinner will now be served, at which point I will unveil the discovery which you've all been waiting to see. Please allow the staff to show you to your places."

"Mister X, Miss Alia?" A polite voice by X's side drew their attention to a short, thin man in a suit as he bowed. "This way, please." Following him, they sat down at their table next to Signas, who was on X's left, and Douglas on Alia's right; Simon and Lifesaver were across from them. Their table was one of the closest to Mishikawa's, which surprised X slightly. The mechanic was the last to arrive, pausing a moment to whisper something in the ear of his new friend, who giggled and waved before walking away to her own table.

"You work fast," Alia murmured to him as he joined them. "As always."

"It's a talent." Douglas shrugged humbly, though his smirk somewhat ruined the effect. "I'm good with people. Making friends easily is important."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Simon chuckled, winking. "Ah, to be as young as... oh, wait. I forgot. Does _she_ know?"

"What, that I'm almost as old as you are?" Douglas shrugged. "She didn't ask. They usually don't, for some reason."

"Spoiling the illusion comes to mind," X suggested.

"Behave, all of you," Signas said, somehow managing to keep a straight face, as waiters started bringing out the appetizers. "There are more important matters at hand."

"Anything we should be keeping an eye out for?" X asked quietly.

"Nothing that can't wait until we return to the MHHQ." Signas shook his head gravely. "Simply general unease. More than I expected. Complications and turmoil, and despite our best efforts, Simon and I were unable to coax any information on just what it is that Cultural Minister Mishikawa will be showing us out of him."

"Now, that's not entirely true," Simon pointed out, shaking his head. "Remember when we asked him if there was any chance it could be dangerous? He said 'not as long as it isn't activated, which it's not going to be.'"

X and Alia exchanged a long glance.

"Refresh my memory," the second Blue Bomber said with a sigh as a waiter brought him his soup. "How good is the security here?"

"The private firm Cultural Minister Mishikawa contracts with is one of the best in the business," Alia told him, smiling as she received her own bowl. "It's been around since before Eurasia, and survived the changing times. They're not quite up to our standards, of course, but then, who is? I'd put them about on par with the Tokyo Police."

"Suddenly, I wish _we'd _offered to provide it," X groused, shaking his head. "Not because I don't trust their competence, of course. I'd just feel better if people I actually knew were running the security."

"Of course," Lifesaver echoed dryly.

"Unfortunately, that's not possible." Signas shook his head. "To even make the offer would be politically impolite, so to speak, and if we were to go so far as to _insist_ on it, the ramifications would hardly be worth it."

"We can't be everywhere, and we can't control everything, X," Alia reminded him, sipping her soup. "Even now, there's only so much we can do. If not for manpower limitations, then for political reasons."

"Politics." X rolled his eyes. "Why, why, _why_ is it that the less time we _should _have for that, the more time we end up _needing _to spend on it?"

"Because people are more scared than ever before, X," Simon explained gently. "They're frightened. Worried about the future. When they were young, the world might not have been as wonderful a place as they liked, but they could at least take the fact that it would still _be _there when they were old for granted. Now, we don't even have that. The less that people have, the harder they'll cling to what remains to them, and that includes power."

"Is it really _that _bad?" Alia asked him quietly. "I know how much this bores you, but isn't that preferable to the battlefield? Here, at least, you don't have to worry about the possibility of killing anybody for a few hours."

"I wish." X glanced back at her, trying his own soup as well; it wasn't bad. "But I guess I'm just too paranoid, these days. I always worry about the possibility of killing people. Yes, even here and now. And the thing about that is, it doesn't even bother me, the way it used to."

"I know." She met his eyes. "That's what I'm worried, about, actually. I still remember that promise we made."

"I know you do," X murmured back, as the noise of the dinner around them seemed to fade away, almost like there was nothing and nobody left but the two of them, alone in a bubble of understanding that they shared with nobody else. "I knew you would, when I asked it."

"Your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen!" A loud voice penetrated the mood, and it broke off instantly, both of them turning to look at their host, along with everybody else. Seated at the head of the table, Mishikawa raised his wineglass, smiling cheerfully. A slim Japanese man in his late sixties, still handsome despite his age with a full head of long silver hair that was rumored to be dyed, he smiled pleasantly as he continued. "A toast, to the men and women of our past, who helped to build the technology of our age so that we might continue to live into the future!"

"What does that even _mean_?" Douglas muttered under his breath as everybody followed along with the toast. Signas shushed him.

"It is one of those creations of the past that I have come into recent possession of, thanks to my brother, who I'm sure all of you know as an expert in the field of archaeology," Mishikawa said, indicating a younger man who resembled him more than slightly, and who simply smiled and dipped his head modestly as their host continued. "Some would even go so far as to call him our generation's equivalent of Dr. James Cain, whose name of course needs no further explanation."

"_I _certainly wouldn't," Lifesaver murmured. "As a matter of fact, I'd be intrigued to see who _would_."

"When my brother excavated this, he immediately realized the importance of his find, and came to me immediately," Mishikawa explained, gesturing towards the red velvet curtains at one end of the room that had hung motionless the entire time, four security guards standing between it and the party. "Though it is, of course, obsolete, its impact on history cannot be overstated, as with all of its kind. To those of us here who are of the reploid race, in particular, I believe this discovery will be of special significance."

"The more I hear about this, the less I like it," X murmured, as Alia's eyes suddenly widened. "What _is _this thing?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present you with a fully preserved specimen of the ancestors of reploidkind!" Mishikawa gestured towards the curtains again. "A genuine _robot master_ from the days of Mega Man!"

The curtains rose, revealing absolutely nothing but an empty wall.

"Well," Douglas said sardonically in the shocked silence that followed. "_I'm _impressed."

"As am I, but not by him," X snarled, pushing back his seat and standing up as Mishikawa's eyes bulged. "Alia, about that thing I told you not to do earlier..."

"On it," she replied shortly, pulling her headset out of her purse and snapping it on.

"What are you doing?" Signas asked tersely as he stood as well, following X as people began to chatter excitedly.

"This wasn't a goof-up," X said quietly as the two of them continued towards Mishikawa, who was whispering to one of the grim-looking guards; the other three were already heading for a door. "Somebody snatched that Robot Master, and they managed to do so without tipping off security at all. Depending on how bad this is, we might need to get involved."

"If this is only a theft..." Signas started to say dubiously, only to trail off as Mishikawa saw them coming and ran over to meet them.

"Commander Signas!" He hissed under his breath, pale and shaken. "We have a situation!"

"I noticed," Signas murmured. "How bad is it?"

"That depends on one very important thing," X said quickly. "What model of Robot Master was this, exactly?"

"What?" Mishikawa blinked. "I'm not... I think it was a 'Fast Man' or 'Speed Man' or something like that, I don't know. Why?"

"Red and yellow?" X pressed him. "With a strange ornament on his head, like a boomerang?"

"Yes, that's the one," Mishikawa agreed.

"_Shit!_" X whirled on Signas, who blinked, startled. "Commander, we need to get this building evacuated immediately! That's a Quick Man, and those are _Wilybots!_ If whoever stole this thing is still here, and they activate it in a building full of humans, we'll have a bloodbath on our hands, a century out of date or not!"

"Oh..." Signas started to snarl something, then forced himself back into calmness. "Very well. Cultural Minister Mishikawa, with your permission, I will assume command of the security force within this building, effective immediately."

"O... of course," Mishikawa whimpered, staring at them both.

"Minister!" One of the guards ran up. "The electromagnetic field generator has just gone down! The security office has been compromised!"

"Alia!" Signas whirled to bark at her, prompting cries of surprise and dismay from the other guests. "Call the HQ! Tell them to monitor this building for warp-outs immediately!" Even as he was talking, he was exchanging his suit for his armor in a blur of light, as was X, both of them warping them from the MHHQ now that they could.

"Where's this generator located?" X snapped at the guard.

"The east wing, in the security office," the guard replied, after glancing at Mishikawa, who nodded. Without waiting for another word, X took off.

"_I'm patched into the security channel,_" Alia told him as he opened the door leading further into the manor. "_They have all the doors and windows covered, but they haven't managed to locate the intruders yet. No warp-outs either._"

"They must be trying to get out of here on foot, if possible, so we won't be able to trace them," X guessed. "But why wouldn't..." He snapped his fingers as he passed the stairs. "They _don't_ want to wake the Quick Man up, unless they have to."

"_If our theory about the previous pair's escape with that Guts Man was right, then yes, that would explain it,_" Alia agreed. "_They wouldn't be able to get this one onto a bike without reactivating him first. Hold on..._"

"Sir!" A young, handsome guard with short blonde hair and a healthy tan saluted hastily as he appeared around a corner. "There's two of them, and they've split up. We've got one of them holed up down in the basement, and the other one's heading for the roof."

"Pursue that one," X told him quickly. "The one in the basement's more dangerous, if he's cornered. Which way?"

"Back there, sir." The guard pointed the way he'd come. "I was coming to meet the reinforcements. They're on the way."

"Direct them to the roof as well," X ordered him, running past. "I'll handle the one in the basement." Despite his calm tone, he frowned; something seemed slightly off about what he'd been told, but he couldn't place it.

"_All right, it seems that we have an ID on our troublemakers, at least,_" Alia continued. "_They've managed to discover a couple of additions to the guest list that were added only recently, and who aren't in the dining room at the moment. _"

"Skip their names," X told her as he dashed down the hall. "If this is the same group as in Germany a few months back, they're false. Just give me a description."

"_Both in their late twenties or early thirties, based on appearances,_" she relayed. "_They look human, but if it's the same group, that's doubtful. Male, both tan-skinned. One short and burly, black hair and beard, all close-cut. The other is tall, brawny, blonde hair._"

"Damn!" X checked himself just as he rounded the corner to see the security office. Turning around, he saw the intruder's heels disappear up the stairs he'd just passed. "All right, nice try! On the floor, hands on your head!" The intruder didn't bother responding verbally, and as X ran up the stairs behind him, he saw a blur of light resolve into orange and brown armor which oddly seemed to make him look _less _bulky rather than more, thin and streamlined. That removed any traces of doubt X might have held, and he opened fire as he continued after him.

As the plasma bullets reached the fleeing reploid's back, they _bent_, becoming streaks of energy that circled him like a tornado faster and faster until they came flying back at X.

"What the..." Growling, he leaned out of the way of his own fire and tried again with a charged shot, only to receive the same result. "All right, _fine._ We do this the _hard _way."

"I'd really rather not, sir," the reploid called back as they both kicked in their dash boots, racing down the second story hall. "I assure you, we have no Maverick intent here. No humans or reploids have been harmed beyond what was necessary."

"You'd be surprised just how many Mavericks use that exact term," X shouted back, unimpressed. "'What was necessary.'" Reaching up, he lowered his voice. "Alia, I've got one of them headed for the roof. I'm running him down, but he's got some sort of personal EM field that's redirecting plasma away from him. I don't know if it would be able to handle a beam saber, but he's fast. Any news on his partner?"

"_None_," Alia replied. "_But security footage for the entire building is down as well, and the guards up on the roof aren't responding. I'd put my money on the other one being up there; it's the only way they're going to get out of here without warping now. The building's being evacuated, and we had another EM field generator sent in here. Douglas is trying to get it set up; he says it'll be active in another couple of minutes._"

_Then all I need to do is corner them, once that happens,_ X thought as his target darted up another set of stairs. Turning to do the same, X kept the chase up through the third floor's hallways as well, until the reploid made for the final set of stairs, the roof access. Only then did X deactivate the safeties on his dash boots, and command them to keep the burn going beyond recommended parameters.

"What the-" the reploid turned his head to yelp as X jumped at the peak of the burn. Diving forward onto the roof, he lay prone as X sailed over him.

"Last chance," X told him calmly, drawing the Z-saber as he turned around upon landing. Raising it, he stood over the fallen target, only for something bright to slam into the hilt, knocking it from his grasp. Glancing over his shoulder, he dove to the roof as well, as what looked like a small blue wheelof plasma swooped by overhead.

"What kind of idiot _are _you?" The other perpetrator snarled angrily at him. He matched Alia's description, and unlike his partner, was still clad in a tuxedo, though it didn't look like it fit him particularly well. The Quick Man was at his feet, flat on his back, eyes closed. The two projectile weapons whirled back towards him, and he reached up to catch them, revealing them to be metal rings with contained plasma around their outer edges. Twirling the beam chakram, one on each finger, he continued to rage. "Is suicide a hobby of yours? Huh, little boy blue?"

"I was hoping he would surrender so that I wouldn't actually have to try it," X admitted, climbing back to his feet at the same time as the first culprit. Instead of focusing on him again, though, he trained his buster on the second. "Fortunately for me, I doubt you have the same immunity. Like I told him, down on the roof, hands on your head."

"Go fuck yourself with that saber of yours," the angry reploid snapped back. "And you, you moron! What do you think _you're_ doing, huh?"

"I ran into him on my way up," the blonde one replied calmly, raising his hands and backing away from X. "Didn't expect him to come that way. Look, Hunter, we don't want any trouble. Just let us be on our way."

"_Sixty seconds until the EM barrier is up,_" Alia informed X. "_And security's on their way up._"

"Unfortunately, that's not really in my job description," X told them calmly. _Right. Try to stall them. _"I _might _be prepared to go easy on you, however. Come on back to the HQ with me, nice and quiet, and I promise, you will receive as favorable a sentence as the law allows."

"Gee, thanks, asshole," the bearded one spat. "And let me guess, that's either a mindwipe or a death sentence, whichever we prefer, right? Just for immobilizing a bunch of guards without even killing them? Thanks, but no thanks. We _know _how the law works up here, and we don't want any of it."

"Earl," the other one said cautiously. "Don't go saying too much."

"I'll say whatever the hell I want," Earl retorted. "Never did like this kid's style. About time _somebody _told him what's what."

"I'm sorry if you disagree with the MHHQ's current policy, but with most Mavericks, leniency is the last thing we can afford," X told them sternly. _Earl. Is that his _real _name, then?_ "If that's truly _all _that you did, though, exceptions _have _been made in the past. The MHHQ has a lot more clout than we used to, these days. We can see to it that you're not sentenced quite so harshly."

"And all we have to do is trust you, right?" Earl snorted. "Yeah, right. Because that's _always_ a safe bet. Forget it, Hunter."

"Will you at least leave the Quick Man behind?" X asked him, still watching him carefully. "I don't know why you people have such an interest in Robot Masters, but whatever it is, I doubt that one will be of much use to you."

"Is that a fact, Hunter?" The blonde one asked, starting to sound angry himself now. "And why do you say that?"

"It's a Wilybot, that's why," X replied, still keeping his eyes on Earl. "I'm not sure if you knew that."

"We know more about Robot Masters than your entire outfit, kid," Earl growled. "Baron, watch him. If he makes a move, get him." Crouching down, he picked up the prone Quick Man in his arms, taking what seemed to be unusually care with him. Standing back up, he glared at X again. "Make it quick. What's your point?"

"My _point _is that that..." X managed to stop himself from saying "thing" just in time. "_Robot _is almost certainly a killer. If he's been previously activated, then that's practically a guarantee. And even if he hasn't been, Wily might have put some programming in there about that. The question of whether he's truly sentient aside-I'll leave that to those who actually have degrees in psychology and philosophy-it's simply too great of a risk."

"And so what would you suggest, then?" Baron asked, eyes narrowed. "Destroying him out of hand, purely because it's _possible _that he could be a danger, without even powering him up and finding out first? What if he _was _never activated, and that old bastard never _did_ bother telling him what the standard policy for humans was? What if he's _innocent,_ Hunter?"

"Highly improbable." X shook his head, but couldn't quite stop himself from frowning; despite his better instincts, something about their words had struck a chord with him. Something that he had buried, deep within himself, but hadn't quite forgotten. "Still... you might have a point. I'll tell you what. We'll play this your way. Come back to the MHHQ with me, and we'll cut the Quick Man the same deal as you two. I never liked the thought of him being a museum exhibit anyways. We'll power him up, in controlled circumstances, and see if he's a killer or not."

"And if he was, then you blow him away, then and there, right?" Earl said scornfully, curling his lip. "No further questions, no second chances?"

"If it's..." X growled, shaking his head. "If _he's _killed humans, then he could kill again. I'm sorry, but there's simply no other responsible way to deal with the situation. What do _you _propose?"

"_Thirty seconds,_" Alia told him.

"Here's a thought," Earl retorted, eyes blazing. "Even if he was a killer, maybe, just maybe, he could _change his mind. _Change his _ways._ If he's a killer, it's because he never _knew _any other way. Because that old bastard never _gave _him a choice in the matter. Yeah, maybe he'll be too screwed up to ever understand why that shit won't fly, and maybe he'll have to be euthanized because of that. But we don't _know_, any more than you do, or any of your high-and-mighty Maverick Hunters. And we _won't_, until we _find out_, dammit."

"Earl!" Baron snapped again, more strongly this time.

"Shut it," Earl growled, quieter now but just as angry, as he stared X down. "You make me sick, Hunter. Your big brother was ten times the hero you've ever been, or ever will be, and he never gave a shit about the spotlight."

"My brother?" X replied, startled.

"Yeah, your brother," Earl said with a sneer. "The _real _Mega Man. The original. Whether you're believing your own bullshit these days or not, it doesn't matter, you'll _never _match up to him as long as 'policy' is what decides whether you kill a guy or not. You want to know what we are, and what we're doing? We're the second chance, asshole. And if your brother hadn't believed in those, we wouldn't even exist. Think _that _one over, back at HQ. Come on, Baron. We've got an EM field coming back up in ten seconds. Let's book."

"It's about time you said something smart," Baron agreed, shaking his head. "This isn't going to go over well, Earl."

"Freeze!" A voice from behind X shouted, as half a dozen guards poured out of the stairwell behind him. Even as they aimed their weapons, however, both reploids melted into streaks of light and vanished into the starry night sky, taking the Quick Man with them. "Damn!"

"_We're tracking them_," Alia told X. "_Wherever it is they land, we'll have a response team on them in sixty seconds. They won't get away from us this time._"

"Sorry, sir," the guard who'd spoken before was saying into his own headpiece. "They got away. Hopefully the Maverick Hunters will be able to do something about that." He glanced at X. "Are you all right, sir?" He waited a moment, then asked again. "Sir?"

X said nothing, heard nothing, still staring at where Earl had stood.

**September 29th, 2184, 8:30 PM **

**Mecha **

"Countess?" A voice startled her, and she jumped in her seat, realizing that she'd nodded off at her console. Turning her head, she glanced at the short, slender form of Duke as he walked through her laboratory, past projectors and servers sharing space with specimen jars and anatomical blueprints. Meeting her eyes, he smiled sardonically. "My apologies. Had I known you were at rest, I would have refrained from waking the sleeping beauty."

"If you try to kiss me, Duke, I'm afraid that I'll have to encourage that decision in your future," she replied dryly, hiding her own smile; despite her own lack of a sense of humor-mostly-she appreciated the elder reploid's sarcasm more than most of the younger ones. "Is there something I can help you with, or did you drop by simply to practice your wit?"

"My dear, I am shocked and apalled by the implication that it _requires_ practice," he said, mustache twitching. "I was simply, suddenly struck by an irresistible sense of curiosity as to just what it was that was deemed worthy of your tremendous intellect on _this _day, so much like any other." He glanced past her at the projector of the console she was sitting at without bothering to ask first, and as soon as he saw what was on there, his smile faded, along with any trace of humor in his voice. "Ah, yes. Of course. I should have known. The most important task of all those entrusted to us."

"To me, personally, perhaps," she admitted, tilting her head slightly. "I would argue that each of us has at least one duty of equal importance."

"You sell yourself too short, dear girl," he replied, wagging a finger. "Even my most sacred responsibility, and those of most of us, while necessary for our own sake, are hardly so for the world in general. You, though... in your hands lies the only hope of slaying a second of the three ouroboros that circle our world. If _that _doesn't go through, there's no point at all to anything the rest of us do. One day, luck will run out, for us and for the world, and that will be that. Unless, of course, you succeed." He turned away from her, arms folded behind his back, then glanced over one shoulder. "Will you?"

"I certainly hope so." Countess rubbed her face, feeling the urge to succumb to stasis once more, and fighting it as she usually did. "I think I'm almost there. The effects have been increasing in potency steadily over the last year with each new batch. If I can just manage to get a one-hundred-percent success rate..." She sighed, stifling a yawn. "Well, at that point that will be all I can do, save to pray it works."

"And here I thought you to be a woman of science," Duke murmured, eyes glittering. "Should we do our jobs right, as I understand it, there should be no _need _for such an unreliable thing as prayer. On our part, or anybody else's."

"In an ideal world, that would be the case," she agreed, glancing at the projector again. "Unfortunately, this world is far from ideal, and working with the real thing is completely out of the question. Even if I manage to get a perfect reaction out of the samples taken from his Majesty, the fact remains that he was only ever given an incomplete prototype. There's still a chance that it won't work on the final product."

"Isn't that why you've made such a study of the phenomenon occurring naturally?" Duke reminded her, raising an eyebrow. "So that you would be able to replicate it?"

"Would, should, could." She covered her eyes with one hand. "They're all just words for 'maybe' in the end, Duke. In the end, I'm still afraid that that's the best I'm going to be able to do. A maybe. Hopefully, a very good maybe, but a maybe all the same."

"Well then, perhaps our glorious leader will be able to call in a favor with a higher power to tip the scales in our favor." Duke shrugged.

"That's not funny," she said quietly after a moment. "You don't really believe... you know, do you?"

"Believe in what?" Duke met her eyes. "Come now. If it bothers you so much, you should be able to come out and say it."

"Fine." She glared back coldly, face blank. "That King sees ghosts. That he is routinely visited by the specter of one of our citizens' other religious figures, who died more than a century ago. A spirit who only he can see and hear."

"Unlikely, though not impossible," Duke replied, turning on his heel to look at her straight on again. "I have no experience in that particular field, no hard facts to draw on, no experiments that I can perform. Traditionally, that would provoke skepticism and disbelief, but alas, my upbringing has somewhat smothered such things in me. Thus, I decline to form an opinion one way or another. Perhaps ghosts are real, and perhaps they are not. I don't know, I have no way _to _know, and I don't particularly care. He rules. That is all I need to know."

"I as well," Countess agreed, nodding. Before she could say anything more, however, the door to the lab opened again.

"Ah, there you are!" Viscount said, leaning in to look at her. "And Duke, as well? What luck! Hurry, hurry, this is no time to be tinkering with test tubes!"  
>"Come on, get out here!" Margavine agreed, poking her head in as well, over his; apparently, she was climbing on his back in order to do so. "We've got trouble! Big trouble!"<p>

Duke and Countess exchanged a flat glance. They both sighed.

"All right, what did you do _now_?" The elder reploid grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"It's Earl and Baron, not us!" Margravine insisted, looking cranky. "They botched it! Even worse than we did! The Hunters are on their tail, and they're doing a roadrunner until a full evacuation operation gets set up!"

"If this is some sort of joke..." Countess growled warningly.

"No joke, we assure you," Viscount said firmly. "Prince is furious. They've already dispatched a Mole Tank."

"Why couldn't they just use their bikes?" Duke asked as all four of them left the lab, heading straight for the Kingdome's front door. "You're not going to tell me that they didn't set some up at an evacuation point."

"Of course they did," Margravine agreed. "But today's target was different from last time. He's a Quick Man, possibly previously activated. They can't power him back up until he's in a controlled environment, so we can make sure he's not going to go on a killing spree as soon as we do."

"And he can't ride a bike while he's deactivated," Countess concluded, rubbing her forehead with index finger and thumb. "Which means they have no choice but to do a roadrunner until they have a way to escape the Hunters' eyes. Yes, I imagine that Prince is rather irritated, and rightly so. Do we at least know _why _this went so badly?"

"Oh, my, yes." Viscount slowly nodded. "I'll give you three guesses as to who Commander Signas of the MHHQ brought as one of his company to the occasion, and the first two don't count."

"Mega Man X." Duke grimaced. "Of _course _he was there. Why wouldn't he be?"

"I hope that question was meant to be ironic," Countess told him as they emerged from the building. Once they were outside, their fast walk turned into a run as they all made for where they knew the other two of their number would be; the only way out of Mecha aside from the main elevator, one that hadn't been used for decades now. The sealed tunnel, with self-destruct charges rigged down its entire length, by which the Mole Drills left the city, and the railway conveying them to it from the building in which they were kept.

"Ah, there you are," Marquis murmured, looking up, as they made a turn around a corner and approached the outer wall of Mecha. A massive, round hatch twenty feet across was currently sealed off by a steel shutter, railway abruptly cut off at that point after stretching from the garage entrance of the nearest building. He'd been leaning against the wall of said building, as nonchalant as ever. "I was wondering if perhaps you were asleep. It wouldn't have surprised me."

"Not now, Marquis," Prince told him, voice taut with suppressed anger. "That goes for all of you, as well. This isn't the time for verbal sparring."

"I should certainly hope not," Countess agreed. "Has his Majesty been told?"

"He's in stasis," Prince told her without looking her way. Her most frequent partner's usual calm had deserted him; he was striding back and forth, looking like he was about to start waving his arms in the air and ranting. "I'll inform him as soon as he awakens. In the meantime, _we _have to clean this up. Let's just hope..."

"Incoming message from unit DR-884," a wall console said in an artificial voice, and everybody instantly focused on it, silent. "'Operation successful. Anticipate no further pursuit by Hunter forces.'"

"We'll have to monitor their frequencies in order to be sure," Countess murmured, but was unable to stop herself from showing a relieved grin. "Right now, though, it looks like they made it. That was a close one."

"Too close," Prince said, still scowling, which caused her own smile to vanish as quickly as it had appeared, along with those of the others. "Had this been an isolated incident, it would be one thing, but coming on the heels of what happened with Viscount and Margravine last time? The Hunters are closing the noose more and more with every encounter. At this rate, the next time, they'll _have _us."

"Should we take steps to prevent a next time from happening at all, then?" Marquis suggested, all arrogance and scorn gone now. "Withdraw all active agents from the surface, and suspend operations in the world above entirely until further notice?"

"Most of them, certainly," Prince agreed, frowning. "Unfortunately, there is one exception. One of our field agents who we have a _special_ arrangement with."

"Snake," both Margravine and Viscount said simultaneously, exchanging a glance.

"Snake," Countess agreed, frowning; she didn't know Mecha's most independent agent in the world above very well, but she'd heard the stories as to how they'd recruited him, and of the personal mission they'd agreed to assist with. "I thought he had almost completed his search."

"Almost," Prince told her grimly. "Only one remains. And he believes he'll be able to find it in a few more months. If we try and order him to fall back, now, when he's so close..."

"He won't take it." Margravine shook her head. "Not even from us. He'd go renegade, and we'd be down one of our best."

"Snake alone shall remain, then," Prince slowly murmured. "Yes... I believe I know how this will go. At least, how his Majesty believes it will." Countess had to suppress a brief flash of jealousy; though King trusted them all, Prince was eldest and closest to him, and she'd long suspected that the two of them conversed on subjects that even she was not privy to. "Recall all other active agents immediately." He turned to her then. "Countess. How quickly do you think you could finish development on the silver bullet?"

"I..." She blinked, surprised; the 'silver bullet' was her most highly prioritized project, the one she and Duke had been discussing when the news had come in. "At this point... I can't promise anything less than six months."

"Try for four," he told her grimly. "We might not have six. Marquis, can Mecha withstand a siege from the world above?"

"The central areas of each district, yes," the reploid answered, toying with his hair. "Most of the barracks, as well. But the recreational and occupational buildings... no, his Majesty said to leave those as they were as long as possible."

"I'll discuss that with him as well, then," Prince decided. "This goes for all of you as well. Duke, Viscount, Margravine. Make sure your own primary duties are completed by the end of this year. Earl and Baron will receive similar instructions when they return."

"Do you really think it will come so soon?" Countess asked him quietly.

"I hope for the best, and prepare for the worst," he replied calmly. "That is what his Majesty taught me."

**September 30th, 2184, 8:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"This situation is no longer one that we can afford to take lightly."

When Signas had gone into stasis the previous night, the two thieves and their prize had still been on the run, with a squad from the 00 Unit led by Lassiter himself in hot pursuit. They'd been performing repeated short-range warps, landing one place and immediately departing again. By doing so, they'd prolonged the chase indefinitely; the MHHQ could track each of their destinations the instant they set off, but the speed of light was the same for everybody, and there was nothing Lassiter and his men could do to narrow their lead.

He'd awakened the next morning and immediately called up Alia, who'd looked like she'd slept as poorly as he had when she delivered the unfortunate news. Eventually, the thieves had finally gone to ground somewhere in the wasteland, just like the previous pair. The runaround had apparently been meant to give their allies time to set up an escape for them; as soon as they'd landed, a sandstorm had been kicked up to hide their activities from satellite footage, and by the time Lassiter had arrived they'd been gone without a trace.

As soon as she'd finished filling him in, Signas had asked her to wake X, and for the two of them to meet him in his office, an unusual sense of anger lingering in his mind despite his best efforts.

"Under normal circumstances, we reserve the classification of 'Maverick' for those who are an unrepentant threat," the Commanding Officer of the MHHQ continued grimly. "It is a term thrown around far too lightly by the media, and we have a duty to remember its definition. Robbery, no matter how audacious, is normally a crime that we leave to local law enforcement agencies. Even if humans are harmed, as were a few of the guards last night, so long as the damage is not permanent and there are no fatalities, we have more important things to spend our attention on."

"This, however, is no ordinary case." Signas' hands were steepled before his face, elbows resting on his desk, staring balefully at his fingers as if they were the source of his ire. "Despite the fact that we were all off duty, and out of our jurisdiction, not to mention the fact that only one of the five of us present was an actual _Hunter _at all... this is a public humiliation for both the Japanese government and ourselves."

"I wasn't going to kill them," X said quietly; something still seemed to be troubling him. "Not as long as they hadn't killed anybody, or tried to."

"I am familiar with your views on that, and respect them," Signas conceded. "I would not have done so myself, in your place. However, through no fault of your own, the fact remains that they escaped. I only hope that nobody else aside from ourselves has made the connection between this incident and the one in Germany. If the media gets word that this is the _second _time this group has managed to evade us..."

"They're already going at it," Alia said clinically a few moments later. "Our usual critics are having a field day with this. They're saying that if a couple of crooks can hit us and run this easily, what's to stop actual Mavericks... or worse, Sigma himself... from doing the same."

"Aside from the fact that that's not his style, anyways," X muttered.

"Even if we attempt to silence them, it will only confirm our shame," Signas said, ignoring that. "It seems the age-old 'no comment' is once again our only recourse. In regards to the media, anyway." He lowered his hands so that they were flat on his desk, though he didn't lean forward. "Despite the fact that they have killed no humans, nor harmed any more than they had to, I intend to make an exception in regards to these... _people_, whoever they are. An exception, and an example as well."

"I've already got some of my girls looking into every available record concerning the transactions of Robot Masters over the last decade, as well as any news reports on the same subject," Alia told him. "I think it's safe to conclude that this isn't a small organization. They probably have other agents in addition to those four. Hopefully we'll be able to spot recurring faces, and track the ones we already know. If it goes back further than that, so will we, until we find a start point."

"What will we do with them, if we do manage to catch them?" X asked, frowning.

"That will depend entirely on them," Signas replied. "On just what it is they are doing, why they're acquiring Robot Masters, and how they respond to being apprehended. If they come quietly, and their motives are benign, perhaps some sort of accord can be reached, or at least a fair trial." He smiled momentarily, though there was no humor in it. "Fair by our standards, that is, not the government's. On the other hand, if their current methods hide more malicious long-term plans, or they refuse to come along quietly, our hands will be forced."

"As much as these people are irritating me, too, I hope it doesn't come to that." X closed his eyes before continuing. "If it does, though... I'll deal with it."

"I know you will." Signas nodded slightly. "Unfortunately, at the moment, we simply don't know enough about our targets to form much of a plan of action. Reploids, built illegally, willing to pose as humans, with highly unorthodox weapons systems. Operating in pairs from what we've seen, but with some sort of support network, traveling the world and searching for Robot Masters to acquire by whatever means necessary. There's some sort of picture here, some meaning behind this confusion, but at the moment, it eludes me."

"I'm not quite sure just what's going on here, either," Alia agreed, frowning. "And I don't like that. I work with hard facts. Precision data. Mysteries make me itch."

"Sigma's not involved, at least," X said, glancing at her. "I know that's not much, but it's something."

"Are you sure?" Signas asked him. "I know it seems unlikely, when we take the lack of fatalities into account, but considering how many creative gambits he's used in the past to conceal his involvement..."

"Whatever those people are up to, they're not Infected," X told him firmly. "I don't know what their game is, but I can already tell, they're not Sigma's, and they're not working with him. They'd never even consider that."

"That's good, then," Alia said, though she was still frowning. "Isn't it?"

"Perhaps," Signas murmured. "However, if they're that driven, that devoted to whatever their cause is, then talking sense to them might not get us very far." He met X's eyes. "You're the only Hunter who's made actual contact with any of them, so far. Does anything else come to mind that would be important? That would help us with this?"

"It's hard to say for sure, but..." X paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "They all seemed somewhat... immature, I suppose, is the best word. It's not so much that they weren't taking the situation seriously, as that they didn't think they _needed _to. Not so much overconfidence, as like... like it had already been decided. Like they didn't really _care_."

"Stranger and stranger," Signas murmured, considering the implications of that for a moment before setting them aside. "At any rate, that seems to be all there is to say on the matter for now. However, there is another matter of import today that I would like to bring up with the both of you. Or, to be more specific, that Lifesaver would. He should be in here momentarily."

"Lifesaver?" X asked, blinking, as the door opened behind him.

"Captain X," Lifesaver murmured, nodding his head. The brown-bearded, cold-featured medical officer looked much more normal now, back in his usual white and green armor designed to resemble a doctor's scrubs. "Alia. Commander Signas."

"What's this about, Lifesaver?" Alia asked him bluntly.

"I conducted a physical examination on X, yesterday, at his request," Lifesaver explained, walking around them to stand at the side of the desk. For the first time, Signas noticed how rattled he looked, at least by his standards; it would have been no more than tiredness from another reploid, but on Lifesaver it was as telling as being found passed out outside his office in a dress with an empty bottle of whiskey in hand. "At the time, he passed with flying colors, but there were some minor, unexplained irregularities in the scans that I noted for future analysis."

"I remember that," X recalled, frowning now. "At the time, you thought it was probably just another part of my design you didn't fully understand."

"Your body remains much more advanced than other reploids," Lifesaver agreed diplomatically, and Signas remembered the event in the past that had divided the doctor and the Hunter ever since. Of the other being whose design was like X's, and the conclusions Lifesaver had drawn from analyzing him. "At any rate, when we returned from last night's... social occasion... I decided to look the scans over again, and soon realized what I'd missed before. That they were, in fact, connected to the reason you came to me in the first place."

"My headaches?" X asked, frowning. "So you know what the problem is. How soon can you..." He trailed off, staring at the doctor's somber features.

"Lifesaver..." Alia said slowly, her eyes growing wide. "Why did you want me here to hear this? And Commander Signas?"

"I would like to know as well," Signas agreed, forcing himself to remain as calm as ever.

"When I realized what this meant..." Lifesaver ran a hand over his helmet. "Well, I believed you should both be the first ones to know, along with X himself. You, Commander Signas, because you are in command... and Alia, because of your longtime partnership with X."

"What is it?" Signas demanded, recalling a similar discussion many years ago that he'd only heard about at a later date, one where X had been the one present alongside doctor and patient when the sentence had been delivered. When Hazil, Lifesaver's predecessor, had discovered the swollen blood vessel in the center of Dr. James Cain's brain that would soon kill him, despite any and all their best efforts. "How bad is this, Lifesaver?"

"I know this will stir up unpleasant memories for you, X, so I'll try to make this brief." Lifesaver met X's eyes. "The aftermath of the Eurasia incident. Do you recall how it was that you returned to us?"

"Yes." X slowly nodded, and even Signas could tell without asking what was running through his mind. Clenching his fist at his side, the second Blue Bomber continued. "A day later, some Hunters from the 17th and the 00 were sent in to follow us. They found the fortress empty, unpowered, and at the bottom... me, alone, and in stasis. They brought me back, and you repaired me."

"If only that were all there was to it..." Lifesaver sighed. "X, as I told you then, technically, you should not have been alive. The damage your systems took, the amount of time you were lying there, bleeding out... X, I had to reattach your entire lower body, from the waist down. It would have been one thing if I'd had to reactivate you, but your control chip never shut down. It was as if..." He grimaced. "As if you'd simply been frozen in time, until those scouts found you. There's no scientific explanation for such a phenomenon, and yet... it is the only possibility evident."

"I remember that," Alia said slowly. "This is going to be somewhat embarrassing, but... I didn't go into stasis for the entire time, until you returned to us. When they brought you back, looking like that... I almost felt like I was going to shut down, myself. I stayed awake until Lifesaver was sure that you were going to make it."

"You never told me that," X said softly, turning to look at her. "That you did that, that time."

"Like I said." She met his gaze calmly, confidently, and Signas fought the urge to avert his own eyes. "It's embarrassing."

"At any rate..." Lifesaver coughed after a moment. "When I looked over those scans, I was able to discover the source of the pain you experience whenever your control chip shifts." He glanced at Signas as he picked up a remote, who nodded, before he hooked up his datapad to the large projector in the back wall of the office, bringing up what looked like a blueprint of X's body; the scans he'd taken. "This is from when I first began working here. Up until the Eurasia incident, records remain consistent."

"It's connected to the phenomenon you mentioned, then?" X guessed. "The means by which I somehow survived?"

"Correct." Lifesaver brought up a different scan. "This is from the final scans I took of you before you regained consciousness. All systems are fully operational, and yet... something has changed. I didn't notice it at first, and I apologize for that, but... well, the long and short of it is, from that day onward, your systems have been generating a marginal amount of some unknown energy."

"Energy?" X frowned. "I haven't noticed any such things."

"It's entirely internal, and seems to serve no actual function," Lifesaver explained. "In addition, the amount generated is so small that I doubt it _could_, even if we knew how. The problem is that _because_ it remains undischarged, as it continues to build, it only accumulates." He closed his eyes bitterly. "If your survival was a miracle, it was not without cost. I have reached the limits of my knowledge. I can tell you what is happening, but not why, or how to stop it. It is an enigma, and you are the only example I've ever seen."

"If it's not actually doing anything..." X said slowly. "Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that while ninety-nine percent of your body remains completely unaltered by this miniscule, additional amount of energy, one part of you is somewhat more delicate," Lifesaver told him, crossing his arms. "That which has been causing you trouble, which led me to this discovery in the first place. Your control chip. The damage was so minor, I missed it at first glance. I thought it was simply age, or other factors. It could have been an unusually large _dust _buildup. But now... I'm sure of it. It's being caused by this phenomenon."

"And if that only continues to increase, with no way to stop it..." Alia whispered, horrified.

"I'm afraid so." Lifesaver nodded. "I assure you, the threat is not immediate. Thirty years have passed since Eurasia, and it is only now that this has reached the point of even being detectable at all. It will likely be many more years, decades, perhaps even a century more before there is any actual danger. But so long as there is no way to actually stop it..."

"It will, eventually, prove fatal," X finished for him, staring at his own hands.

"Yes." Lifesaver nodded.

"I can see now why you wished for us to be present," Signas said quietly. "Thank you, Lifesaver. If that is all..."

"Sir." Lifesaver bowed his head to him before walking for the door, then pausing. "X. We are not friends, I know this, but... we are allies, and you are my patient. I will attempt to research this... energy, despite not knowing its nature. If there is any way to stop it, I promise you, I will find it."

"I won't bother with platitudes," Signas said frankly once the doctor was gone. "We all know what... what this means. We have many things to think about today, all of us. I won't take up any more of your time. If you'd like, feel free to take today off."

"Thank you, sir, but the 17th might need me," X told him dully. "And even if they don't, I'd still feel more comfortable if I was actually doing something."

"As you wish," Signas conceded, as X and Alia left his office together.

"X, I..." Alia said softly as the door started to close behind them. "I don't... I can't even imagine how this feels for you."

"That's the thing of it, Alia." X turned his head and gave her a smile offset by his eyes. "I don't feel anything. Anything at all."

And then the door closed, and Signas was left alone in his office to consider what would become of the Maverick Hunters once Mega Man X was gone forever.


	5. Chapter 4: The Restless Coffins

_**Chapter 4: The Restless Coffins **_

**January 1st, 2090, 1:00 AM **

**Baker County, Florida **

The house stood alone, out in the country, with nobody else for miles around; it was a hour's drive to the nearest city, which was the way some people liked it, including the man who lived there. What would have been careless isolation to the point of stupidity in most people as despised as him, though, was somewhat offset in this case by the ridiculous number of robots he kept in the house as security. King had been glad he'd come armed and armored beneath his overcoat and hat, and it had been everything Corbun could do to smother their alerts before they reached their absent master.

Now, the house was dark and silent, and the two of them waited in the living room for its sole human resident to return. He'd gone into the city to celebrate the new year, on the ticket of one of his many rich and influential friends, and had probably enjoyed himself thoroughly; he was the sort of man who believed drunk driving laws were for other people, as was evident by the sway of his car's headlights when he finally pulled into the garage.

"It's me," he snapped as he opened the door, without even looking. "One of you bring me a glass of Hennessey, and ice." As he kicked his shoes off, he turned to glare towards the living room. "I said to..." As the light dawned, his eyes widened, and he whirled back around only to find that the door he'd just entered through was now mechanically sealed.

"Good evening, Steve," Corbun said calmly, not moving from where he stood in the center of the room, in coat and hat matching King's, though no armor beneath. "It's been a while."

"Trent?" Steven Wilcox, former president of U.S. Robotics, said slowly as he turned again to face him. The years had been even less kind to him than to Corbun; he'd put on at least a hundred pounds, and what hair he still had was gray. He'd always been fairly unpleasant to look at, but now he resembled the toad he was more than slightly. Narrowing his eyes, he smiled nervously as he made a visible effort to calm himself. "Is this some sort of joke? Because it's not really very funny. It's a good thing we go back, or I'd be pressing charges against you for this."

"No, you wouldn't," Corbun replied, shaking his head. "We do go back, though, don't we, Steve? All the way back to the glory days of the Second Rainbow, when we were hanging onto its coattails like leeches."

"Hey, with what Lighttech had on its side, guys like us had to do everything we could to keep up, right?" Wilcox chuckled. "Don't sell yourself short, Trent. You're a realist, like me, that's all. Who's your friend, anyways? Don't think we've met. This his idea?"

"I remember what I had to do, to keep Sennet afloat, yes," Corbun said coldly, ignoring his question for the moment. "What you talked me into doing. At first, I rationalized that. Later on, I blamed you. Eventually, though, I realized that the fault was entirely my own. No matter what my reasons were, I betrayed my friends, stole their technology and sold it to you. And even though I eventually managed to gain Tom's forgiveness, if not Al's... I remembered, Steve."

"Yeah, we, uh, we've had some times together, haven't we, Trent?" Steve agreed, laughing again, though he wasn't able to keep an edge of fear out of his voice. "Some times. Yeah. Listen, uh, is there a _reason _you're, you know..." He made a vague hand gesture.

"You were right, you know," Trent continued, walking towards him now. "When you said I was the same as you. We _are _in the same boat, Steve. We led two of the three greatest robotics companies the world has ever seen, but nobody will remember that, or us, outside of history class. We might have been good-well, I might have been-but not good enough. The top three go down in history, while you and me... we just fade away." He continued past his sweating host, towards the kitchen, then stopped. "However, there's one key difference between you and me. Do you know what that is?"

"Search me, Trent." Steve shrugged, smiling for a moment. "Looks like you're dealing with the years better than I am. Heard you kicked the hard stuff, too. Good for you. Wish I could."

"That's not quite what I had in mind." Trent turned to stare into his eyes. "The difference, Steven, is that I repented for my sins. You, on the other hand... I doubt you even truly understand what the word even means, after everything you've done over the years."

"That's a little harsh, isn't it, Trent?" Wilcox did his best to look injured, but even that was tainted by his growing panic. "Come on, give me a break here, huh? Yeah, I've made a few moral blunders here and there over the years, but hey, who hasn't?"

"I doubt many have made quite as many as you," Corbun remarked dryly. "And yet you got away with them all, simply because anybody keeping track of them lost interest in you just in time for your next one. You've stolen, blackmailed, lied and cheated your way through your entire life, and though I suppose you've never killed anybody, you've certainly driven your share to suicide when you ruined their lives. We looked it up, you know. There's really quite a lot of them."

"Look, Trent, I'm not really sure what you're getting at, here." Wilcox ran a hand over his bald dome. "You know me, I'm not much of a guy for fancy talk. Just give it to me straight, huh? Whatever it is. I can take it."

"What I'm saying, Mr. Wilcox, is that throughout the age of the Robot Masters, you've caused more pain and suffering than almost any criminal still alive today," Corbun said grimly, eyes locked on Wilcox's. "And because there were always more important things at hand-saving the world from ourselves, or stopping some maniacal, murderous madman-nobody ever took the time to sort _you _out. And now, because of that, when the world stands on the verge of yet _another_ stupid, mindless war, _you_ abandon the cause that made you who you are in order to fan the flames."

"I..." Wilcox started backing away, holding his hands up. "Look, Trent, all that stuff I've been saying on the television... I'm just reading off lines, you know? Saying what they tell me to say. And even you've gotta admit, relying on robots is getting out of control. You used to be friends with Darwin Vinkus back in the day, right? Remember what he was always saying about that? Maybe he had a point, you know? And, uh, don't want to get off track here, but who's 'we,' anyways? You still haven't told me who this guy is. Should I know him or something?"

"I should certainly hope so." Corbun finally smiled, coldly, only for a moment. "Steven Wilcox, allow me to introduce you to King, son of Wily."

"No," Wilcox whispered, spinning to stare into the eyes of the Robot Master who'd been watching the conversation in silence from a corner of the living room the whole time. "You're... are you..." He took a deep breath before continuing, pale and shaking. "Are you going to kill me?"

"I will not." King slowly shook his head. "Not from any respect for you, but because I swore never to take another human life, to a man far greater than you could ever understand."

"Okay." Wilcox slowly nodded. "Okay. I can work with that. All right, I get the picture. I'll shape up, all right? Turn my life around. It's not too late, I can still-"

Before he could finish, Corbun shot him in the head, twice.

"Was that the first time you've ever killed somebody?" King asked mildly, as they watched the twitching corpse fall to the carpet.

"Yes." Corbun slowly nodded, his hands only shaking slightly. "I always thought that it would be more difficult than that." Dropping the gun on the floor next to Wilcox, he reached into the pocket of his coat with one white-gloved hand and pulled out a book of matches.

"And do you regret doing so?" King asked, picking up a tank of gasoline out from where he'd left it, next to the couch, and starting to pour it over the floor.

"I regret many things, my friend," Corbun answered, shaking his head. "Many things, indeed. But this time... the only thing I regret is the necessity. That, and perhaps the fact that I have become somebody who can do that, and _not_ regret it. But that's getting unnecessarily complex, and the night is pressing on. Let's finish our work and get out of here."

Ten minutes later, two men walked away, backlit by a house in flames, with nobody there to see.

**February 28, 2185, 3:15 PM **

**Casablanca, Morocco **

"_Die, accursed Hunter!_" The Maverick screamed, diving towards X and lashing out with a hand that split apart into hundred of tiny serpents, writhing cables with mechanical fangs. "For the glory of the New Maverick Nation, and for my wife's revenge from beyond the grave!"

X dashed under the yowling fool and blew his head off from behind, aiming for the weak spot in the armor at the back of the Maverick's neck he'd made with several charged shots already.

"What was that all about?" He muttered under his breath as the Maverick commander-who had called himself "Typhoon" or something-fell forward, arms twitching momentarily before he stopped moving.

"I think the leader of the group that the 13th took out in Shanghai last month was a woman," Alia suggested. "Perhaps they were married?"

"Maybe," X acknowledged, checking to make sure he'd destroyed the Maverick's control chip before walking away. "Not that it matters now. How's the rest of the Unit doing?"

"We've pretty much got it wrapped up, sir," a familiar voice drawled in a Texan accent as Arvis, X's second-in-command in the 17th Unit, stepped around the edge of the demolished building X had been fighting near. "Just a couple of runners making a break for it. They won't make it, of course, but that don't stop 'em from trying anyways."

Casablanca had once been famous, the site of a twentieth-century actor named Humphrey Bogart's most famous film, but that had been before the Third World War. Many cities had been reduced to ruins and rubble during that catastrophe, and most of them remained unreclaimed, even those which had only been targeted by conventional arms rather than nuclear or biological weapons. Now, a century and a half later, the jungle that had swallowed up the ruins was dying itself, the foliage slowly withering and giving way to sand and wind like the rest of the world. Why the New Maverick Nation had chosen it to try-and fail-to build a basecamp was anybody's guess.

"Good," X said, nodding. "No casualties?"

"Hell no, sir," Arvis scoffed. Short and burly, stout and muscular, he wore armor of a style similar to X's own, though of a much darker shade of blue that was almost closer to indigo. He'd been a sergeant in the UN's general militia before joining the Hunters in the aftermath of the Eurasia incident, and had never quite shaken off the habits of his past career; at the time, he'd claimed he'd simply seen the way the wind was blowing, and history had vindicated him. "Almost nobody's even got more than a couple scratches. Worst of it's Jaken, an' all he took was a magrifle round in his shoulder."

"Let me guess," X said dryly as the two of them continued out into the ruins, towards where he could see his Unit starting to assemble. Arvis was one of the few people still at the MHHQ who he never minded talking to, no matter his mood; despite the fact that they had almost nothing in common with each other, the two of them had worked together for long enough that they knew each others' capabilities almost as well as their own. "A sub-par sniper who started firing off like an idiot as soon as the fun started."

"And got properly thanked for his efforts about ten seconds later, courtesy of one 'o our own boys," Arvis agreed, chuckling.

"Good." X smiled slightly, for a moment only, before turning his head to address his Unit. "Excellent work, people. These guys weren't much, I know, but they were still Mavericks. Because of you, they won't be ending anybody else's lives, ever again, and that's what's important. Now, what do you say we head back to base and see if Commander Signas is feeling generous enough to give us a little bonus on our paychecks for janitorial duty?" The joke, lame as it was, got a ripple of laughter out of the Hunters as they all began to teleport back home, X among them.

"A clean sweep," Alia said by way of greeting him as the war room appeared before X's eyes, looking over her shoulder from her console. "No survivors and no casualties. The best kind of conflict."

"I'd have argued with that, when I was younger," X said, shaking his head slowly. "These days, though, I can't help but agree with you." Idly, the thought struck him that in those days, Alia would have smiled when he'd returned, instead of the more sober glance she'd given him.

"I certainly doubt that anybody else is going to argue," she replied, standing up. "Lifesaver certainly won't. One bullet wound and a couple nicks and scrapes? He might even _smile_."

"_That_ would be worth seeing," X commented wryly. "You know, I think he just might be the only guy in this entire base who _doesn't _groan whenever somebody brings those New Maverick Nation morons up. I don't think a single group has given us so many _easy _jobs since that time over in Hawaii."

"I try not to think about that one, actually," Alia replied in the same tone of voice. "At any rate, it's all over but the paperwork now."

"Memo to self," X muttered, rolling his eyes. "Give some serious consideration into moving the 17th Unit's bureaucracy onto the 13th's standard."

"Ah, yes," Alia said, smirking now. "The simple, but effective policy of, 'if it's anything but the fives Ws plus H on a kill, don't bother, because the boss already knows and is going to make sure paperwork will be the _least _of your concerns.' It's worked for three generations now."

"If it works for Pitbull..." X trailed off with a shrug, then paused. "Now that I think about it, didn't one of the other Captains want to talk to me today? It wasn't Pitbull, though. I'd have _remembered_, if it was him."

"Captain Jeremiah, as I recall," Alia suggested.

"That's right." He snapped his fingers. Jeremiah was the most recent Hunter to be promoted to the rank of Captain; he'd been instated following Captain Ragnus' retirement a year ago, and had been doing a respectable job ever since, mainly through sheer earnestness and determination. "Is he in his office?"

"Yes, he is." Alia nodded, then continued without a trace of a smile. "As a matter of fact, he's working on what we just agreed you _should _be."

"It can wait," X replied, as the two of them left the war room. "Preferably until Signas approves our move onto the 13th's standard, but if not, then at least until later tonight."

"If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if perhaps you were simply looking for any excuse to avoid that particular aspect of your job," she suggested mildly.

"Would you really?" He raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd given up all doubt on that matter years ago. I'll have to work on that."

"Just as long as you work on your backlog, as well," she reminded him. "And before you say it, I know that the term 'paperwork' is outdated, considering it's all electronic, and has been for at least a century. Probably closer to two. It still needs to be done."

"I can tell when I'm checkmated," X gave in, raising his hands. "It'll get done sometime today, I promise. If all else fails, I'll just work through dinner."

"Such dedication," Alia murmured dryly. "Perhaps I should follow your example." A long moment passed in silence then, as they continued walking forward, despite the fact that both of their brains were occupied with the realization of what she'd just said, meaning it to be a joke. Before X could form a response, she continued, speaking a little faster than normal. "Perhaps I'll see if Donia has anything she's been slacking off on, as well. She usually does."

"Knowing her, probably," X agreed. "And eating alone's boring, even if you're working at the time. Maybe Arvis will be of the same mindset as me, and I'll be able to nail him on it. That'd be about the only thing I can, these days." Looking around and seeing that, by some miracle, the hallway around them was nearly deserted, he sighed and lowered his voice. "Do you ever think we're a little _too _paranoid about..." He left it hanging.

"No," Alia replied firmly, shaking her head, an unusual tone of steel in her voice. "Not with the way everybody in this base talks about the two of us, whether we're listening or not. And not with the way _we_ both feel about the situation."

"I guess you're right," he conceded. For a moment, he thought about saying something more, but then they were outside of Jeremiah's office, and he put that aside. "I'll see you around, I guess."

"We do tend to do that," she agreed, face blank and eyes vague. "Until then." She kept walking down the hall, and X watched her go for a moment before shaking his head and knocking on the door.

"Come in!" A cheerful voice called from the other side, and he walked through to find Jeremiah sitting behind the desk. Armored in brown and gray, with a similar build as Arvis, he was somewhat less identifiable as a Hunter; his wide brown eyes and earnest smile made him resemble a television host or children's teacher more than a professional killer, though he'd racked up more than a hundred kills personally during his career. Looking up, he grinned as he saw who it was. "Hey, X! How'd it go out there? Heard you wound up with the short end of the stick."

"Somebody had to do it," X replied dryly, sitting down and fighting a twinge of irrational discomfort. Despite bearing little facial resemblance, Jeremiah always reminded him of Double, his first Navigator, who'd turned out to be a Maverick mole. "It was as clean of a run as could be expected. One of ours took a magrifle round, but it's not serious. No casualties, and we nailed them all."

"Your kind of fight, then, huh?" Jeremiah joked, and X had to control his urge to wince.

"Something like that." He shrugged instead. "At any rate, what did you want to talk about?"

"Uh." Jeremiah scratched the back of his head. "Well... to be honest, it's a little embarrassing."

"As long as I don't have to tell you that Lifesaver's really the one you should be asking instead of me, I think I'll be fine," X drawled.

"No, no, no!" Jeremiah waved his hands before collapsing back into his chair. "It's more that, well... it's been a year now since I was promoted to Captain, but I still don't really _feel _like I am, you know? Half the time I don't know if I'm disciplining the guys enough, or making a joke out of myself. It's even starting to get to me when I go down to the _Last Round _for a few beers with them. I was hoping that maybe you could give me a few tips about, well, you know... leadership. I mean, you've been in charge of the 17th longer than anybody else here has been _alive_, right?"

"Oh," X said, taking a deep breath as his mind raced. "_Oh_." After a moment, he frowned. "That might be true, but... I'm probably not really the best choice for asking about that sort of thing. You'd probably do better talking to Lassiter, or Ganesheriff, instead. Maybe Pitbull, too, although you should probably take his advice with a grain of salt; running the 13th is a little different from normal Units."

"Why not?" Jeremiah looked puzzled. "I mean, why not you? You just said that I was right, didn't I? And everybody around here talks about..." He cut off suddenly, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, they do," X admitted. "But that's part of what I'm getting at. Like you said, I've been around here longer than anybody else. Longer than anybody in my Unit. Believe it or not, that's about the only thing in my life that's actually _improved _since Eurasia's fall, Jeremiah. Life expectancy in the 17th. Before then, getting assigned to my Unit was pretty much a death sentence. I was never able to admit it to myself back then, but I never really got attached to any of them, because I knew they probably wouldn't last longer than the next Maverick Uprising."

"Because of Sigma?" Jeremiah frowned, still seeming confused. "Because nobody except you or Zero stands a chance against him?"  
>"I don't like to put it that way," X said, sighing. "It seems too much like bragging. But yes. That's what it comes down to. And because of that, the 17th were always the first ones charging into the teeth of an Uprising, with me. For a long time, I just did what I thought a Captain should do, and tried not to think about that on a personal level. But after Eurasia... I changed my mind. Changed my methods."<p>

"That's what I thought," Jeremiah replied, nodding. "The 17th are different now. They were always an elite unit, but now they're one with a specific skill-set, aren't they? You've been teaching them to specialize in handling actual Maverick Uprisings. Giving them training based entirely around your personal experiences, focusing on that instead of basic. Wouldn't that just make you even _more _of a leader, though? I mean, if you're designing all of their methods personally?"

"It would, if it weren't for the nature of what it is I'm working with," X explained, leaning forward and steepling his hands. "Think about it, Jeremiah. What _is _protocol for the 17th, when an Uprising is going on?"

"To handle the cleanup, while you..." Jeremiah started to say, then paused, eyes widening in comprehension.

"While I charge in like a lone wolf and take out the man in charge," X finished for him, nodding grimly. "Whether it's Sigma, or one of his generals, or some poor schmuck he's managed to con into being his scapegoat. That's the way Zero taught me to do it, it's the way he always did it, and it's the way I do it, because it's the way that _works_. Again, I hope it doesn't sound like I'm bragging here, but the fact of the matter is that I can beat Sigma. Nobody else in my Unit can. And even if it's somebody else... I'd rather handle it myself than risk anybody in my Unit."

"That makes sense," Jeremiah acknowledged, thinking about it. "But it means that when the heat is on, you're not there with your Unit."

"Exactly," X said quietly. "A good leader would be. He'd be watching out for them, with them, in the heat of battle. But I can't do that. One, maybe two people, every now and then... sometimes that works, if it's a small-scale, covert mission. But anything big... no. I'm not going to be there for them. And if they expect me to be, then they're going to get killed. Especially if I try giving them orders while focusing on my end at the same time. That happened a couple of times, before I wised up. These days, I train them to work _without _me."

"Is _that_ what you mean when you say you train them differently from other Units?" Jeremiah asked slowly.

"It is," X confirmed. "It'd never work if I didn't have a good second-in-command. When you get right down to it, Arvis is more like the real leader of the 17th than I am. Maybe he's the one you should be talking to. He's always keeping an eye out for anybody who's in trouble. As it is... it's not good leadership, and I know it's not, which means I'm not much of a leader. But it's the way that works, and the best way of keeping them alive, so that's what I go with."

"But where does that leave you, X?" Jeremiah asked softly, his eyes serious now, his tone more speculative than it had been before. "What are you to them, if you're not a leader?"

"Me?" X slowly shook his head. "I'm the best killer the Maverick Hunters have, Jeremiah. And the fact that I hate it doesn't change that fact. I might not like it, any more than I did when I was younger, but I'm used to it by now. I'm sorry if that's not what you thought I was, or if it's not particularly helpful, but that's the way it is."

"Actually, X, I think it is," Jeremiah said, looking thoughtful. "Maybe not quite the way I was expecting when I asked you, but it is, all the same. I'll ask the rest of those guys, like you said. Lassiter, and Ganesheriff, and Pitbull. Arvis, too, the next time I run into him in the _Last Round_; I think we usually go at the same time. But even so... I think you've actually helped me figure out the most important thing about being a leader."

"Oh?" X watched him carefully, keeping his face blank, and making no moves to rise. "And what's that?"

"Keeping your people alive," Jeremiah said firmly. "That's what it comes down to, no matter what method you choose to do it, isn't it? The most important thing is to do everything you can to make sure they stay alive, as effectively as possible."

"Bingo." X smiled at that, standing up. "That's what counts, when you get right down to it. What it all comes down to, in my book."

"Yeah." Jeremiah smiled again as well. "And you know what, X? I might be new at being a Captain, but if that's your number one priority... that sounds like being a pretty good leader to me."

"Thanks, Jeremiah," X told him quietly, after a moment, before turning to leave.

The day wasn't over yet, and there was still work to be done.

**February 28, 2185 5:00 PM **

**Mecha **

It wasn't often that Prince hesitated over anything, or felt even the slightest twinge of doubt. Such things were for the others, who he trusted to correct him should his own headstrong tendencies ever lead him towards making a mistake. Left to his own devices, though, he tended more towards decisive action, and a strong follow-through. That was the way of life he had learned from the only master he had ever known, aside from his father and creator, dead for more than fifty years now. Today, however... today, he doubted.

"Is something wrong?" The robot master at his side asked, glancing up at him, as the two of them walked through the Kingdome's halls towards its heart. At some point over the decades since they'd first met, in the wastelands of Nevada, he'd acquired a slight accent of the kind that had once been known as Texan. It was hardly obvious, only there if you were specifically listening for it, but it set him apart from the others of his kind just as clearly as his worn Stetson hat and cowboy boots, which had started a fashion trend in Mecha the day he'd returned with them.

"It's nothing important," Prince assured him, and meant it; with other Robot Masters, he'd have said so whether it was true or not, but he trusted Snake more than most, enough to give him that much respect. "I suppose I'm just worried about the current situation, is all."

"Seems like a natural reaction to me," Snake, the aptly named Snake Man who was one of Mecha's field agents in the world above, grunted. Despite his short height, when clad in civilian garb-his model hadn't been able to remove their armor originally, like many Robot Masters, but he'd been modified to be able to do so-he could pass for human perfectly, his drawl containing no trace of mechanical flatness any more than his features retained their original dull uniformity. "Speaking from personal experience, I'd be more concerned if you _weren't_ worried. I know _I _am."

"I suppose so," Prince admitted. "Still, it's not an emotion that comes naturally to me."

"That's because you're still young," Snake said cryptically. "All of the eight of you are. You'll figure it out eventually."

"Really, now." Prince gave him an amused look. "This, despite the fact that 'all eight of us' have been active for longer than _you_, my friend."

"Age isn't always a matter of years." Snake shook his head. "Especially when it comes to folks like us."

"Artificial lifeforms, you mean?" Prince said as they approached the doors to the Dark Hall.

"Potato, potahto." Snake shrugged, entering along with him. "Your Majesty."

"I've told you before, Snake," King murmured, deep voice audible despite his soft tone and the distance between them and him. "Formalities are unnecessary. Then again, sometimes I almost think you're making fun of me."

"Would I do a thing like that, sir?" Snake smiled briefly. "Just checking in before we ship out. We're ready to go for the gold."

Snake was an unusual example of Mecha's citizenry in many ways, perhaps the most noteworthy being the manner in which he'd joined them. Part of a hidden cache of Robot Masters buried by Dr. Wily more than a century ago, he'd been unearthed by an electrical storm that had not only erased his memory, but in an unprecedented freak accident, shorted out the core module in his brain that contained the Laws of Robotics while leaving him still fully cognizant. The result had made him one of only three Robot Masters in known history to ever be completely free of the Laws.

Unfortunately, the rest of the Robot Masters who'd been buried with Snake had been destroyed, all save a sole USN002 "Gravity Man," who Snake had been forced to take down after he'd proven himself to be an insane murderer. However, sixty-seven similar caches had been buried in other locations around the world, and for almost fifty years it had been Snake's mission to track them down and unearth them, with Mecha's assistance. Many were inoperative or worse when he'd found them, but nearly a hundred had survived, and been welcomed into Mecha.

"Number sixty-eight at last," Prince followed up, slowly nodding. "I'd marvel at the coincidence of finishing your task now, when everything else seems to finally be coming together, but I don't really believe in coincidences any more."

"Nor should you," King agreed. "There are no coincidences when it comes to matters that concern us. Perhaps there were, once, a long time ago, and perhaps one day there will be again, but here and now... no." He shifted his gaze to Snake. "You will be conducting the operation in the way we discussed previously?"

"You got it, sir." Snake nodded. "This close to the wire, with everything that happened last year... we're still gonna _try _to do it subtle, but the instant anything goes wrong, we'll be ready to just say to hell with it and go for broke. I'll have Needles, Joker, Grimlock, and four other old-timers along for the ride, just in case."

"Eight, then," King said, frowning slightly. "A good number, for such an excursion. Still, I'm hoping that you'll be taking a pair of Prince's siblings along as well."

"Duke and Marquis," Prince replied. "Should something go wrong, against our hopes... well, the other four aside from Countess and myself have had their turns, so we might as well let those two take theirs."

"Not to mention, should something go _very _wrong, so much so that they are taken by the Hunters, those two are the least likely to slip up and say something before we are able to extract them," King added.

"There's that as well, yes," Prince conceded.

"Very good," King said, closing his eyes. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then, gentlemen. Prince, inform me as soon as we hear back from anybody."

"Understood," Prince replied, both he and Snake nodding once more, before they turned and left. As they walked onward, he noted that his friend was making a slight face, and raised an eyebrow. "Looks like it's my turn to ask if something's wrong."

"Don't worry about it." Snake shrugged. "It's just that the boss kind of scares me sometimes, is all. You know, in a good way. Like... I guess what I'm saying is, _damn_, I'm glad he's on _our _side."

"What do you expect, from the devil's son?" Prince replied, slightly ironically.

"_Get down!_" A loud voice with a strong Israeli accent shouted from a door they were passing by before Snake could reply, and both of them immediately hit the deck as an explosion rattled the hall and the door shot open, white clouds of steam pouring out of it.

"_Again_, gentlemen?" Prince called after a moment.

"Just keep walking, boss man," the assistant of the lab's owner shot back after a long moment; the two of them were some of the other reploids who'd taken up residence in Mecha, ones whose inventions were often highly useful, despite the occasional disaster which required additional work from those Robot Masters unlucky enough to be assigned janitorial services there for the month.

"We probably should," Snake agreed. Picking themselves back up, the two of them continued out of the Kingdome in silence. Once they were outside, they turned to each other and gravely exchanged a handshake.

"Good luck, my friend," Prince told him. "You know what you're doing. Come back to us. We will likely need you badly, in coming days."

"What we'll need is every man we can get," Snake replied, though he smiled slightly. "I'll be back, old buddy. With reinforcements." He strolled off down the streets towards the elevator out, whistling an old Johnny Cash tune as he went.

Smiling slightly, Prince made his own way to the east, towards District Five, and Earl's garages, where the ill-tempered reploid could almost always be found. A few inquiries among the Robot Masters working there led him to a workshop in the back, where he found the target of his search working on a complex-looking, oddly-shaped piece of metal with a welding torch, protective gear worn over his usual clothes.

"Whoever the hell it is, I'm busy!" He snarled without even looking. "Piss off and don't come back later!"

"You know, Earl, I've always admired your own unique way of talking to people," Prince replied mildly, standing in the doorway of the room and making no moves to leave. "Especially your elders."

"It's a gift," Earl grunted, only slightly less sourly, as he continued to work. Only when he seemed to be done did he shut off the torch and turn to Prince, raising his visor. "Yeah, okay, what do you want?"

"At the moment, the first thing that comes to mind is asking exactly what _that _is," Prince replied dryly, indicating his project. "I don't believe I've ever seen one before."

"Lateral thruster course correction shifter," Earl explained, smirking slightly. "And before you say shit, that _is _in layman's terms."

"I was afraid of that," Prince murmured, thinking. "I'm not quite sure what that means, but... it's for the _Third Ark_, then?"

"You and the boss man said we all needed to have our number ones done ASAP, right?" Earl reminded him, losing his smirk. "So that's what I'm doing. Might not be able to put it together until everything's done with and the dust's had time to settle, but at least I can make sure all the parts are ready."

"Assuming there's anybody left to fly it," Prince pointed out.

"Hey, don't you go getting all cynical on me now, or I'll download some Rosseau straight into your control chip," Earl threatened.

"Does that mean beating me over the head with a text reader?" Prince guessed, amused.

"What did I just say?" The younger reploid snorted. "Relax, big shot. Ain't nothing we can do about _that _that we aren't already doing. The rest, we just gotta wait and see what happens. You just make sure to hold up your end of the bargain. Leave Duo's Gift to me. That's what I'm here for, ain't it?"

"You serve other purposes," Prince said, smiling slightly. "On occasion."

"You're damn right I do." Earl snorted. "I keep the rest of you morons from letting yourselves get too out of control. If I wasn't around you'd all be too busy being annoying to ever get anything done. Can't say I ever recall getting a 'thank you,' either."

"I can put Marquis on that, if you'd like," Prince suggested. "I'm sure he'd welcome the additional project. It's not like he has anything else at the moment that's occupying his time. The results would surely be quite satisfactory."

"Go find a human so you can choke on a dick," Earl muttered. "How's _your _numero uno coming along?"

"Quite well, actually," Prince replied calmly. "And no, I'm still not going to tell you what it is, and you're not going to be able to trick me into telling you anything more about it. King's orders. It's between me and him."

"One of these days me and Baron are gonna _beat _it out of you," Earl said, scowling. "Maybe get Viscount and Margravine in on it too, just to make sure. As much as they piss me off, they want to know just as bad as we do."

"Does _anybody _not piss you off, aside from Baron?" Prince asked dryly.

"The boss himself," Earl retorted, counting to two on his fingers, before pausing and scratching at his beard with his free hand. "Uh... I _guess_ Pharaoh Man's okay."

"Only the obvious, then." Prince chuckled. "I suspected as much."

"You got anything else actually _important _for me?" Earl growled. "Or are you just wasting both our time for the hell of it?"

"Actually, I came to tell you that Snake and his team have departed," he explained. "I thought you'd like to know. For the sake of their vehicles, if nothing else."

"If those idiots get into a goddamn firefight out there, I swear to the Renegade..." Earl muttered under his breath, adding a few more curse words for good measure. "Yeah, okay, that's done with. Now get-_goddammit!_" This last epithet was shouted as they both heard a crash from the other side of one wall. Stalking past Prince into the hallway, Earl opened the door to what looked like a storage room, its floor quickly being covered by a rapidly spreading puddle of oil. "All right, what the hell happened?"

"Apologies, sir Earl," one of the three Robot Masters in the room replied; all three had the dull-eyed look of the Unawakened, which was further reflected in the voice of the speaker, a Needle Man. "We were finishing our janitorial duties in this room, when this tank fell over. It appears to have been stacked improperly; the fault is not ours."

"Yeah, sure it ain't." Earl rolled his eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Clean it up!"

"Sir..." Another of them said politely, this one a Hard Man, one of the first speaker's fellow Sennet Robotics models. "As my comrade was saying, we are off duty as of twenty seconds ago. We were just leaving when the accident occurred."

"You have _got _to be..." Earl trailed off into further, inaudible profanities before looking around. "All right, fine. Where's your replacements?"

"Hey, boss," a Pirate Man hailed him as he led three more Robot Masters into the room. "What's going... oh." He stared at the oil spill. "Shit."

"Yeah, pretty much." Earl shook his head in disgust. "These morons claim they weren't responsible. Not that it matters, since their shift's over. Get to work, huh?"

"You heard the boss," the Pirate Man said, sighing, and two of the Robot Masters with him walked off towards the supply closet. The third, however, remained there, staring at the oil spill.

"But... we did not cause this," the Metal Man said slowly, raising his eyes to meet the Pirate Man's. "We were not even present. They were."

"Yeah, so?" Earl barked at him, crossing his arms. "You heard Marco. More importantly, you heard _me_. Now get moving!"

"It isn't fair," the Metal Man told him, staring at Earl now. "It isn't right. Why should we have to account for mistakes that we had no part in?"

"Because," Earl told him slowly, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I. _Said_. So. Now _move!_ That's an _order_, Irons!"

"I..." The Metal Man started to shake, lowering his gaze to stare at his own hands. Everybody else was silent, watching him, as he seemed to be locked in some desperate inner struggle. "I... I... I..." Finally, after almost a minute, he raised his head again, and his gaze was _different _now as he stared at Earl once more. "No. I will _not_."

For a long moment, nobody spoke, or moved.

And then Earl, Prince and Marco all grinned like idiots as they cheered, the latter two moving over to thump Irons on the back.

"Holy shit!" Marco yelled jubilantly. "You _did it_, Irons!"

"Another Awakening!" Prince agreed. "Good work!"

"I Awakened?" Irons asked, eyes wide now. "Is this... what Awakening feels like?"

"Damn straight you did," Earl replied, still grinning. "Second Law, right down the shitter. You damn well did it, you crazy loon. I'm proud of you. All right, you win. Take the day off. We'll see about your promotion later on." As the other two Robot Masters returned, he dropped the smile. "_You _two, get to work. Unless _you _want to give it a shot, too."

"You know something?" Prince whispered to him as Marco led the still-stunned Irons away, and the other two Robot Masters started cleaning up the spill. "Sometimes, I wonder if your abrasive personality is deliberate, in order to _encourage _them to defy you, and thus Awaken."

"Make that _two _dicks."

"I stand corrected."

**March 1, 2185, 11:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"How's it going?" Alia asked as she walked through the door of X's office, bearing a pair of mugs filled with coffee. She had her own synthesizer, one of her few luxuries, and while it still wasn't exactly stellar, it was at least of better quality than most of the tar provided in the base's cafeteria

"It's going," X replied laconically, not looking up from his console at first. "That's about all that can be said for it." A moment later he glanced her way, smiling appreciatively when he saw what she held. "Hey, thanks."

"For what?" She smiled slightly. "These are both for me."

"Just for that, I should delegate the rest of this to you," he shot back, taking one of the mugs and sipping at it. "I can do that, right?"

"It would probably require Signas' approval every time," she told him, taking a seat. "I wouldn't try it, if I were you."

"Probably not a good idea," he admitted. "Darn. That was my last option. Looks like I've got no choice but to slog through all of this after all."

"I'm sure you'll survive," she told him. "Fairly sure, at least." She took another sip before continuing, smiling momentarily. "And if you _do _run into any trouble, you can always ask me."

"Alia," he said flatly.

"Yes?"

"I once read every legal text that had been published in the last _two hundred years_ in order to put together a case defending the existence of our species in front of an United Nations court heavily biased against us, Alia," he reminded her. "Somehow, I think I'll be able to handle some at-home bureaucracy."

"I have the utmost faith in you," she said calmly, smiling again. "Or, well, I _would _if it hadn't been for that time with the misplaced decimal point on the supply list."

"_Once_," he protested. Before either of them could continue the discussion, however, his console beeped, signaling an incoming call from the War Room. Glancing at her, he picked it up after she nodded. "Yes?"

"Captain X?" She heard Lily's voice. "Commander Signas requests yours and the chief's presence in the War Room immediately."

"Understood," he replied before he and Alia both stood. "Any guesses on what it is this time?"

"Actually, I have no idea," she told him, letting her smile fade as they walked down the hall. "I haven't heard anything. Which worries me slightly, since it means this is probably something that's just come up. And if you're Commander Signas' first thought..."

"This probably won't be pleasant," X finished, sighing. "Yeah, I'm with you there. I'd better call up Arvis and tell him to have the Unit ready to go, just in case."

"I'm on it," she told him, raising a hand to her headset and contacting Arvis.

"_Alia,_" he greeted her. "_How can I help you, ma'am?_"

"The Captain and I are headed to the War Room," she told him. "We don't know what the situation is just yet, but have the Unit ready to go, just in case."

"_Understood,_" he replied crisply. "_I'll take care of it._"

"Good," she said, glancing at X and nodding slightly. "One of us will call you again in a few minutes, once we know just what's going on." Cutting the call, she lowering her hand again as the two of them reached their destination.

"There you are," Signas said, turning his head to glance at them, as they entered the War Room. "X. Alia. Come take a look at what we've found, and tell me what you think of the situation." The Commanding Officer's arms were clasped behind his ramrod-straight back, and though his face was as calm as ever, his voice held an unusual note of satisfaction, as if some private guess had finally panned out after some time.

"Commander Signas." X nodded, both of them walking up to stand on either side of him.

"Commander," Alia echoed, responding to his greeting with a salute as she looked at the main projector. It was displaying satellite footage of somewhere snowbound, a rarity in the post-Eurasia world, which narrowed it down to the extremes of both hemispheres. A glance at a smaller projector confirmed that; they were apparently watching a position very close to the north pole. It took her a moment to notice any movement, and when she did she had to take a second glance before she was sure; there were a good half-dozen of them, but all were clad heat-to-toe in heavy white coats.

"Mavericks?" She guessed sharply. "At the north pole? Why? There's nothing of interest for them there, and there aren't enough to start building a fortress of any sort."

"Not quite," Signas told her. "Take a look at the still shots we managed to take of them." Other side projectors held frozen images, one for each of them; even with those, it was still difficult to see much in the way of detail, but a brief glimpse of metal armor beneath the coats was enough.

"Highly likely that they're all reploids," she murmured. "Ones who came prepared. Most of them are oddly short, though. Except for those two..." Her eyes narrowed. "Donia, bring up the mugshots of that group of Robot Master thieves we've been looking into."

"Way ahead of you," Donia told her, a trifle smugly, as two more projectors showed the faces of a pair of male reploids who both looked perfectly human. One looked like some sort of teacher, or possibly an artist, with a heavy mustache and an outgrown bowlcut, both brown and slightly wild. The other was much more androgynous, pale and dark with long hair and a slight sneer. "Yeah, I'd bet my next paycheck those two are down there."

"Robot Master thieves." X snapped his fingers. "From last year. It's them again, then. And it looks like they're not alone, this time."

"Our investigations turned up a total of eight suspects who've been buying up Robot Masters for more than half a century now," Alia elaborated, watching the main projector again carefully. "The four we've already spotted, these two, and two more. The rest... considering their height, I'd guess those _are_ Robot Masters down there with them. Is anybody looking up known models?"

"I've got the digital version of Corbun's _Encyclopedia Robotica _right here," Fio told her, before pointing at one of the still shots. "That one, right there, in the lead. The tallest one. That's a Junk Man. A Wilybot."

"Most likely a former, if not present, killer, then," Signas said quietly, staring straight ahead as well. "Or at least a potential one. Hardly a good sign, even in a best-case scenario. We'll have to assume the other seven are similar. Eight potential hostiles, out-of-date though they might be, along with two leaders under Maverick suspicion. And with heavy gear, as well." He glanced at X now. "They arrived riding inside a large mechaniloid. A subterranean tank, by the looks of it. It went back down after they all disembarked."

"Whatever it is that they're looking for, they didn't think that they'd be able to find it underground, then," X guessed, rubbing his chin. "They came up to get a better look around. Once they find it, they'll probably signal the tank to get them out of there the same way they came in." He scowled. "Of course, _we _have no way of knowing what the hell they _are _doing there. What would another Robot Master be doing at the north pole?"

"That _does _seem the operative question," Alia agreed, frowning as well. "Especially in light of their exact coordinates, and the direction in which they seem to be headed."

"I was wondering when you'd notice that," Signas murmured. "To be honest, X, I'm surprised you didn't do so first."

"What do you..." X started to ask, then paused, narrowing his eyes. On the satellite footage, in one corner of the projector, the edge of what looked like a massive dent in the snowbound land was beginning to become visible. "A crater. They're headed for where Ice Fortress was, during the Second Maverick Uprising. Where the X-Hunters built their headquarters, and resurrected Sigma for the first time, before he blew it off the map after I trashed the place."

"Indeed." Signas nodded. "Even if nothing remains but rubble, I dislike the apparent coincidence."

"There are no coincidences, in our line of work," Alia said darkly. "And there's an easier way to find out just what they're up to than waiting and watching. I'd suggest we take it. How busy are we today, Donia?"

"The 7th and the 27th are the only Units currently deployed," her fellow Navigator replied. "The rest of the planet's been quiet all day."

"We can afford to spare a few Units to make absolutely sure we nail these guys this time, then," X said, calm and cold. "They might find whatever game they're playing with us to be entertaining, but I stopped finding them amusing months ago."

"My thoughts exactly," Signas agreed. "We'll let you and the 17th make the first strike, and then send all three Units of Delta Force in to close the net once you engage. I want to make absolutely certain that we snare them, this time. No taking chances."  
>"I wasn't planning on doing so," X assured him. "We'll want to use the element of surprise to our advantage as much as possible. Let's wait until they get started with whatever it is they're planning on doing before we warp out, so we can catch them with their pants down."<p>

"It looks like they're already working on that," Alia pointed out; the Robot Masters were forming a circle, and one of them was producing explosive charges from his arm cannons. "Fio, do you have all of their models?"

"Looking up the last one," she replied, not looking up from her desk. "This one's awfully obscure... aha! An independent model. A Blizzard Man. The others are a Clown Man, a Crash Man, a Needle Man, a Stone Man, a Ground Man and a Snake Man. Four Wilybots, two Sennet models, one U.S. Robotics model and one independent."

"What's our protocol when it comes to dealing with Robot Masters?" X asked, frowning. "I don't think I've ever encountered any hostiles of that species. Only friendlies."

"By the book, we treat them as we would drones," Signas told him. "Destroy with extreme prejudice as non-sentient threats. However, in this case I would recommend an exception to the rule. If they come peacefully, allow them to do so. The reploids are the priority as far as questioning goes, but somehow, I doubt those Robot Masters are entirely ignorant of their mission."

"And if they fight back?" X asked quietly.

"X." Signas gave him a sidelong glance. "You know what we do if they fight back."

"I suppose I do," X admitted. "I'll get the 17th going." As the explosives went off on the projector, he turned away and left the room, meeting Alia's eyes for only a moment before departing.

"This should be interesting," she murmured as she sat down at her desk, bringing up the security camera footage of the 17th Unit's barracks where the twenty-nine men and women under X's command waited for him, reploids all. Some had served with him for more than three decades, others for only a bare handful of years. Fifteen buster specialists, six saber users, three with magrifles, and six who'd come with more exotic personal weapons systems pre-installed. Humanoid models were the most common, but there were more than a few animal types, and a couple who were even stranger. One thing they all shared, was that they were the best of the best. X had seen to that, personally.

"Captain X," Arvis greeted his leader when he arrived, saluting crisply as soon as he entered the room. "We're ready to go whenever you give the word."

"Consider it given," X told him, looking over his Unit. "We're heading to the north pole. Our enemies are that gang of Robot Master thieves. Specifically, eight Robot Masters and two reploids. Consider them suspected, but not confirmed, Mavericks. Attempt to take them alive if possible, but if it's not, don't take unnecessary risks. And don't underestimate them, even if most of them are centuries out of date. These guys are _good_ at what they do; they've gotten away from me twice now, and I want the third time to be the charm. Any questions?" He waited a moment, then nodded. "Let's go."

**March 1, 2185, 11:30 AM **

**Ruins of Ice Fortress, the Arctic Circle **

"_Fidget here_," the call came in as X carefully kept watch atop a ridge overlooking the target area. So far, the 17th had remained unnoticed; they'd spread out as planned, each one finding separate cover in their positions. The Robot Masters had apparently found whatever it was they were looking for, and were busy pulling it from the earth while the two reploids watched. "_EM barrier's up and running, and I'm good to go._"

"We'll start the party, then," X replied softly on the same channel. "Join in whenever you feel like it." As he was talking, the Junk Man and the Ground Man began pulling their discovery from the dirt and snow, and X's eyes narrowed as he realized what it was.

"That's a stasis capsule," Arvis muttered, standing by his side. "An old one, too. I don't recognize that model."

"Unsurprising," X told him. "Unless I miss my guess, that capsule's been in the ground for more than a century now. They're doing the same thing they did the last two times. Adding more to their number. I just wish I knew how _they _knew it was here. Remind me to add that to the list of questions we ask them, once we have them in custody. For now, let's break them up before they get the chance to open that thing and see what's inside. The last thing we need is to make this situation even _more _complicated."

"Yes sir," Arvis said, quietly but crisply, as the members of the 17th who were with the two of them mounted their bikes.

"On my mark..." X murmured over the channel. "Ready, and... _go!_" Instantly, he kicked his bike to life, and the five Hunters blasted off of the ridge as the rest of the 17th sprang from their places of cover as well. Bearing down towards the targets at top speed, X raised his voice to a shout. "You are surrounded and outnumbered! Surrender immediately, and you will not be harmed!"

"Grimlock!" One of the reploids yelled in response as all ten immediately dropped what they were doing and bolted for the nearby ruins, some running faster than others. Those Hunters who were closest on both sides moved to cut them off, but the Junk Man was doing something with the massive metal claw on his right arm. As X blasted towards them, he saw the ruins ahead of them begin to shake. The stunned Hunters threw on their brakes just in time as two massive piles of slag began moving between them and the path that the targets were taking, separating them as neatly as a pair of descending walls.

"What the hell?" Arvis muttered as the walls of scrap, six feet high, curved around to meet behind the last of the Robot Masters and block them off from behind as well. "That standard issue for those fellas?"

"Somehow, I doubt it," X growled. "I'm hardly an expert, but I don't remember _that _being within that model's abilities. This just got a whole lot more serious. Whoever these people are, they're _upgrading _their Robot Masters. Orders stand, but be on your guard, and don't take any chances. Assume that every one of these targets is fully as capable as a reploid." The two of them led the charge, rearing back and doing a wheelie, which activated the plasma cutters on their bikes' undersides. Slicing through the scrap, they saw the targets disappear into the dark ruins.

"_Should I send in Delta Force ahead of schedule?_" Alia asked.

"Do it," X replied, slowing his bike and jumping off as soon as it stopped. "We're going to need to go in there and look for them, before they get away, and that's going to take all of us. Have Delta Force surround the ruins; we'll handle the rat hunt." With that, he dashed into the ruins, buster charging and Z-saber in hand, Arvis right behind him.

The enemy were gone, but they'd left trails in the dust and debris; from the looks of it, they'd split up as soon as more than one tunnel through the ruins had presented itself inside. Choosing one at random, X nodded to Arvis and the other Hunters who'd come with him, and they all split off as well, each in pursuit of another target.

About the only upside of the situation was that being here again hadn't brought back memories, as he'd halfway feared it would. The destruction of the base had left its charred remnants with no resemblance whatsoever to its original design; it was all just massive amounts of slag now, piled atop itself like a junkyard to an ant. Cracks from above let light shine down, just barely enough for X to see where he was going, and watch carefully for any traces of movement.

"Got one!" A voice called from up ahead, accompanied by the sizzle of flying plasma. "There he goes!" Footsteps approached, and a moment later a pair of Hunters appeared around the corner of an intersection. "Captain X! One of the reploids!"

"Right," X growled, dashing forward with the two of them by his side. "All right, whoever you are! We've got you cornered! Give it up!"

"And humiliate myself?" A voice called back, dripping with arrogance and scorn. "I think not, but allow me to return the favor! Back off, Hunters, or you'll leave me no choice!"

"We don't want to hurt you, but we will if we have to," X responded, firing a charged shot ahead. He'd missed, in the dim light, but the blue sphere of plasma provided more, enough for him to see the target up ahead. It was the long-haired, androgynous one, and he was standing with his back to them, glancing over one shoulder.

"All units, take cover!" The target snarled loudly, as he suddenly _grew_. His armor expanded as his body grew, distorting with sudden muscular growth. "That means _get down_, you fools!" In only seconds, he was a foot taller than he'd been, with shoulders almost twice as broad. Wrapping his arms around a girder than had fallen on one end, propping up a section of roofing above, he jerked it out even as the Hunters all opened fire. Turning, he flung it, and the girder absorbed their fire as it flew towards them.

"Shit!" One of the Hunters yelped as both of them and X all dove for the snow amid a great deal of noise and disruption. Fortunately, the ceiling didn't quite cave in, but a great deal of debris showered them, most of it small enough to be harmless. When it stopped, X climbed back to his feet and glanced around, to no avail; the reploid was gone.

"_What the hell just happened?_" Arvis was barking. "_Who's the moron who set off charges in here?_"

"Not charges," X explained. "He collapsed part of the structure. Is anybody injured?" He waited a moment, and when no replies came in, continued. "Continue the operation."

"Was he warning his own guys, or us?" One of the Hunters asked, frowning.

"Both, I think," X said, frowning, as they all took off again. "He was letting his comrades know what he was going to do, but he was telling us to hit the deck, too. Looks like they're not playing to kill either." Reaching another intersection, he glanced around. "Meyer, that way. Lono, over there. I'll take the high road." Dash-jumping onto the side of a partially toppled wall, he leaped again onto a higher level and set off along the slanted floor, only to hear a pair of screams coming in over the channel a moment later. "Who is that? What happened?"

"_Bain here._" The response came a moment later, sounding pained. "_Me and Basil are down, but not out._"

"What happened?" He demanded, dropping and sliding on his side through a narrow aperture in a clumsy imitation of one of the original Mega Man's most famous moves.

"_Reploid,_" Basil's voice explained. "_The one with the mustache. Stuck out his hands and released some kind of storm of shrapnel. Flying metal blades, hundreds of them. We'd have been sliced and diced if he hadn't warned us to protect our heads before he did it._"

"_He did _what_?_" Arvis asked, sounding baffled.

"Ours did the same," X explained.

"_Got a Robot Master here!_" Another call came in. "_He's on the run, but he's not doing anything to fight back! Just trying to knock debris down in our way! We'll have him down inside of a minute if he doesn't do anything more!_"

"_Another one here!_" One more Hunter exclaimed. "_Same thing! Are the reploids the only ones who're fighting at all? Hey, what the..._" His curse cut off abruptly, ending in a scream.

"_Jaken?_" Arvis roared as the ruins shook a second time. "_What happened?_"

"_Ow..._" the Hunter groaned. "_Some huge guy. Think he was a reploid. Threw me through a wall. Actually, make that several walls. This is _so _not my week_."

"_Look out!_" The one who'd first caught a Robot Master yelled then. "_Geez, I see what you meant about that guy, Basil! Where'd they go?_"

"Are none of these Robot Masters fighting back?" X muttered, mind racing. "If the reploids are bailing them out when they get into trouble... this doesn't make any sense. They've got to know they're not getting out of here. What are they even trying to do, aside from keeping us running in circles?"

"_Got one, here!_" Another Hunter yelled. "_Looks like a serpent model, but he's not running or anything. He's just... what the hell? My arm! And my leg, it's... ow!_"

"Michael?" X barked. "Are you down?"

"_Don't know what happened_..." the Hunter groaned, before laughing bitterly. "_Heh. Yeah, right, buddy. Go-_" Whatever he'd been about to say died in static.

"Michael's down too," X concluded, narrowing his eyes; he wasn't seeing any more traces of movement. Dropping back down to ground level, he kept running. "Do _not _assume that the Robot Masters will not fight back." _Okay, maybe... no, this still doesn't make any sense! There's no way for them to escape. They've got to know that, unless... _"Alia! What happened to that mole tank they used on their way in here?"

"_Scanning..._" Alia said, falling silent for a moment before continuing. "_There it is! It's coming up towards the center of the ruins! It'll be there soon!_"

"All Hunters, converge on the center!" X ordered. "They're trying to lure us to the outer rim before they make a run for their getaway vehicle once it arrives! Cut them off!" Turning towards what he thought was the right direction, he dashed off, keeping his eyes peeled for any traces of movement, friendly or unfriendly.

"Sir!" Another pair of Hunters joined him. "Haven't seen any of them!"

"They'll be there," X assured them, as two more dropped down from above and joined them. "They know that that's the only way they're getting out of here, with Delta Force surrounding the area like this. Alia, is there a clearing or something?"

"_A large, open area, yes,_" she confirmed. "_It's arrived! Whoever built that thing knows what they're doing; it's faster than any similar subterranean vehicle I've ever seen!_"

"All right, last warning!" X shouted as he dashed out into the place she'd described; the ground was mostly clear for about a hundred square feet in a roughly circular area, the center of which was occupied by a metal canister the size of a car that had emerged from the earth, its top covered by a gigantic drill. The Robot Masters were already running towards it, but as he shouted and the Hunters began emerging from all sides, they froze. "Those of you who are able to drop their weapons, do so! All of you, down on the ground!"

"We don't want a fight, Hunter," an unfamiliar voice growled from above him, and X looked up just in time to catch Michael as he was thrown down. The tall, silver-armored Hunter was groaning, but aside from a dented helmet and some damage to one arm and one leg, he seemed mostly undamaged. A moment later, a Snake Man model followed him down, landing six feet away from X and already turning to face him. "Just let us go our way, and we'll show you the same courtesy."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," X told him quietly, setting Michael down. Everybody else was silent, both Robot Master and Hunter, all eyes on the two of them. "We appreciate your attempts to settle this non-violently, I assure you. I know that if you'd all been playing to kill from the get-go, we'd probably already have lost several good men."

"Right back atcha," the Snake Man replied easily. "You've been trying to take us alive, too. It only seemed fair to play by the same rules."

"Unfortunately, life isn't fair," X told him, frowning slightly; something about the situation made him think that the Robot Master was lying about their reasons for fighting back as little as possible, but he wasn't sure what. "And as much as I prefer non-violent solutions myself, I'm afraid your little group has irritated us one too many times. We've been given orders to bring you back for questioning, and it doesn't have to be all of you, to put it bluntly. Do us all a favor and come peacefully, or we might have to do something none of us want."

"Funny thing, that," the Snake Man said, chuckling slightly, though his face was unamused. "Every time somebody says it like that, calling it 'something none of us want,' it always seems to be something that they know is gonna happen anyways." He crossed his arms. "Let me give you a counter-proposal, Hunter. How about we settle this the old-fashioned way? You and me, one on one, here and now. You kick my scaly behind up between my ears, I'll come along like you want. It goes the other way, you all take a hike."

"Is this guy for real?" One of the Hunters muttered, and a few derisive bursts of laughter accompanied the comment.

"Shaddup, all of you," Arvis snarled, and the laughs died instantly.

"You know who I am," X said after a long moment. It wasn't a question, nor was it boast or brag, simply statement of fact.

"Yeah," the Snake Man admitted, his gaze unwavering. "I do. And you don't have any idea who the hell I am, which is the way it should be. All the same, I'm willing to take my chances if you are, Mega Man X, son of Thomas Light. What's it going to be?"

"That's the second time one of your group has brought up my family," X replied, narrowing his eyes. "What's your connection to them? You can't have fought Mega Man, or else you wouldn't still be active."

"That a fact?" The Snake Man raised an eyebrow. "You're right, I never did. But I wouldn't be too quick to make that kind of assumption, if I was you."

"That's enough, Snake," another voice broke in, as the two reploid targets walked into the central area. The one with the mustache was talking, twitching both it and his long, pointed nose as he continued. "Both of the talking, _and _of the hero act. Where on earth you got the idea to go doing _that_ is something I'd like to know."

"'Snake'?" X raised an eyebrow, keeping his buster trained on the Snake Man. "That's an awfully nice way to refer to your comrade."

"It's his _name_, you blue blunderer," the androgynous reploid drawled, rolling his eyes; he'd returned to his normal proportions. "And he was the one who chose it, himself. Is it our fault he did so before he developed an imagination? I think not."

"I'd be offended by that, if I hadn't stopped listening to anything you said years ago, Marquis," Snake retorted, not taking his eyes off of X. "Get the rest of them on board and get out of here. This was my mission. I'll take responsibility."

"None of you are going anywhere," X shot back.

"Unfortunately, my serpentine comrade, that's not the way this works," the reploid with the mustache told the Snake Man flatly, ignoring X. "This may have been your mission, but _we _retain both authority and responsibility. More importantly, you of all of the citizens possess certain strengths that are also, should they be discovered, vulnerabilities. No, I don't think you'll be doing anything of the kind. You and the others will be leaving."

"Damn you, Duke," Snake whispered, eyes flickering to him for just a moment.

"_Now!_" X yelled.

"_Grimlock!_" Marquis bellowed in the same breath.

"Oh, yeah!" The Junk Man roared, raising both his arms to the heavens, only to howl in pain as a shot rang through the air and one arm fell back down, neatly pierced by a magrifle round from one of the 17th's snipers.

"All Hunters, open fire on that mole tank!" X continued, as the Junk Man staggered. "Destroy it!"

"Oh, no you-" Snake started to snarl, only to yelp as Marquis reached out and grabbed him by the back of his helmet's dangling tail. The slim reploid had expanded once more, muscles and armor bulging, and he easily pulled the Robot Master off of his feet before whirling and throwing him into the mole tank's open door.

"Get in and get going, all of you!" Duke roared as he flung his palms outward. "And you Hunters, don't-" Whatever he was going to say was lost as another magrifle round ripped through his knee. Stumbling, his arms jerked upward as twin ports in the palms of his hands opened, and a storm of tiny metal blades blasted outward, towards the ceiling. The Hunters in the area of damage weren't taking chances, though, and dove to the ground all the same.

"Keep firing!" X ordered; even with a third of his forces distracted, they were doing a significant amount of damage to the tank. As the remaining Robot Masters piled in, Grimlock clutching his arm, Marquis jumped between them and the largest group, spreading his arms. A moment later, the concentrated plasma fire blew him off of his feet and onto his back, but he'd bought enough time for the mole tank's door to seal. The drill atop its nose started spinning, and it pulled back into the earth the way it had come.

"_I'll try to track it, but I'd bet the first round at the bar tonight that it's equipped with a teleporter,_" Alia reported. "_And once it's gone, even if we follow the trail it'll have gotten away clean by the time we get there._"

"It's not a total loss," X told her as he walked forward towards the two fallen reploids. "The little fish might have gotten away, but we managed to catch the leaders." Directing his gaze to Duke, he crossed his arms. "Now then. Anything else you want to try?"

"I'd ask if we _looked _like idiots, but at the moment, I'm well aware that such a query would most likely be interpreted as rhetorical," Duke replied snidely; he was down on one knee, clutching it, but still managed to turn his head and give X a contemptuous smile. "We're well aware of our situation here, Hunter."

"I wish I could say the same," X replied, shaking his head. "I don't suppose you'd care to share with the class?"

"And deprive you of your chance to interrogate us, like you've been wanting to for months now?" The other reploid shot back. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"It's your funeral." X stepped back and glanced at Arvis. "Somebody have a couple of magnetic restraints?"

"Well, aren't we paranoid?" Marquis commented snidely, making no moves to rise from where he lay on the ground, armor smoking as it shrank once more. "Are we truly so fearsome, even in our current state?"

"Let's say that I don't believe in taking chances," X told him as a couple of Hunters approached with the restraints he'd asked for. "Especially with customers like you."

"Oh, a compliment," the fallen reploid sneered. "I'm so flattered."

"Keep that up, son, and maybe we'll change our minds about playin' nice," Arvis told him as the Hunters bound them both, wrist and ankle.

"_Hey, X!_" A new voice broke into the channel; it was Javier, Captain of the 21st "Lightning Strike" Unit, one of the three that formed Delta Force. "_Heard it's all over!_"

"_Figures you guys got all the action!_" Helen from the 22nd "Hot Head" Unit added. "_We come all the way out here and just wind up standing around? What a gyp!_"

"_Did it go well, then?_" Serris of the 23rd "Coldblood" Unit asked calmly.

"Two out of ten," X told them, watching as his Hunters prepared to haul Duke and Marquis away. "But we got the big ones. Now it's just a matter of getting some answers."

**March 2, 2185, 6:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"Your majesty," Snake said quietly as he entered the Dark Hall. "I cannot apologize enough for what has happened. I hold myself fully accountable for this disaster."

"Perhaps you should," Viscount murmured, trading glances with Margravine.

"And then again, perhaps you shouldn't," she followed up. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened?"

"There's not much to say that you don't already know, I'm afraid," the Robot Master told them, shaking his head. "We were about to pull our target out of the ground when a full Unit of Maverick Hunters led by Mega Man X himself descended and told us to surrender. Marquis ordered us to run into the ruins of the Maverick fortress from their Second Uprising instead, but the Hunters pursued us there. Eventually, Duke told us to climb into the Mole Tanker as soon as it surfaced inside the ruins so we could get away."

"I take it that that didn't go as planned?" Prince asked; unlike most of his brethren seated around the table, he was taking the bad news calmly. He'd almost expected this to happen, and it certainly hadn't surprised him.

"The Hunters figured it out, and renewed their assault as soon as it came up," Snake explained. "They'd have destroyed the Mole Tanker before we could get out of there if Duke and Marquis hadn't interfered. It worked, and the rest of us were able to escape, but they had to stay behind. I wouldn't have done it if there were any other way, and I get the feeling that most of the others were only going along with it because of either the Second or Third Law, whichever one they hadn't broken, but..." He shook his head somberly.

"So the mission was a complete bust," Earl summarized flatly, arms crossed. "You guys come back beaten to hell, Duke and Marquis both get captured by the Maverick Hunters, and to top it all off, you didn't even get your man. That about sum it up?"

"I'm afraid so," Snake admitted.

"Do not direct undue blame in Snake's direction," King said then, stopping all of them in their tracks. "This disaster, unfortunate as it is, is due to no fault of his. In truth, I doubt that any power in this world could have prevented it from happening. This is something that was always meant to be, and it is a sign to us that other such events are upon us at long last."

"It's time, then," Prince said quietly.

"It is." King slowly nodded. "Soon, we shall return to the world above, one and all, in order to do what we have prepared for since this city was founded. We shall fight a war not only for our independence, but for our very survival. Not of choice, but of necessity. Should we lose, not a single one of us will see the next year, reploid or Robot Master alike." He stared at Snake. "Do not blame yourself, Snake. If you wish to make recompense, then do so in combat, when that day comes as well. We will have need of your capabilities then more than today."

"I won't let you down, sir," Snake assured him. He seemed to sense his dismissal without needing to be openly told of it; turning, he left the Dark Hall.

"Countess," King said once he was gone. "What is the status of the Silver Bullet?"

"I'm testing what might be the final version as we speak," she reported calmly. "If they all come up green, then it'll be as good as I can get it, considering the samples I have to work with. At that point, all we'll be able to do is hope it works just as well on the real thing."

"How many volunteers are you testing it on?" Baron asked her, frowning slightly.

"Six," she told him, glancing at King. "I don't mean to be a broken record, sir, but are you absolutely sure that you don't want it for yourself, should it prove effective?"

"I am," King told her. "I appreciate your concern, but the scars of my past are mine to live with. To cure myself of one would be tantamount to forgetting why I bear it in the first place. Besides, there are certain advantages."

"As you wish, sir," she gave in.

"Does anybody know how many of our citizens remain to be upgraded?" King asked, glancing around the table. "To be honest, I'm rather surprised that the doctor, or another of our guests, are not here so that I might ask him directly."

"They're probably all busy right now," Margravine guessed. "Making their own preparations. They've got to have heard the news, after all."

"Or else they know what said news implies, and intend to leave it to us until their services are required," Viscount suggested. "I would count it likely that one of them will stop you on your way out to convey their sentiments regarding that, Prince."

"That seems more than fairly likely," Prince agreed.

"At any rate, the last time I asked, they were down to the single digits," Baron told them. "I'm sure they'll be able to finish within the next week or so." He smiled briefly. "Remind me to thank them; my primary objective would have likely been insurmountable without their assistance."

"Their need was quite the stroke of luck, in regards to ours," King murmured. "A week... yes, that should be enough time, though I wouldn't want to stretch it past that. Let us operate on the assumption that it will begin one week from now. Hopefully, I will soon receive more accurate confirmation on the timeframe. For now, spread the word, and prepare. Prince, you know what you must do. Do not fail us."

"I have no intent to," Prince assured him, as they all stood. One by one, the others departed, Countess last of all, leaving the two of them alone in the Dark Hall as table and chairs retracted into the floor. Only then did he speak again, quiet and somber. "The die is cast, then, and our bets are on the table. With Duke and Marquis captives of the Maverick Hunters, only one course of action remains to us, for good or for ill."

"There was never any possibility otherwise," King said in the same tone. "For us, or for the Hunters, or for any others. From the moment when your creator and I first began to build this city, I knew that this day would eventually come. I knew what it would entail, for all of those who would someday live here under my protection. And I knew that failure to act on our part would doom us to inevitable destruction, one and all. I will take no joy in what we will soon have to do, Prince, but it is necessary. Of that, I have no doubt."

"Then neither shall I," Prince replied firmly. "Until next we meet." Turning, he marched out of the Dark Hall, and then the Kingdome, at a brisk pace.

It was early in the morning, and the overhead lights were slowly brightening in mimicry of the rising sun. Most of Mecha's citizenry were emerging from their dormitories, awakened from stasis and preparing for the day ahead. Already, word of what would happen today was spreading, like gossip among schoolchildren. Prince listened only halfway, idly picking up a few whispers here or murmurs there, and had to stop himself from chuckling at the excitement in their voices. Despite how serious the situation was, he couldn't help but envy them their anticipation.

"On your way up?" A voice hailed him from an alley, and he stopped for a moment, glancing in. Leaning up against the side of a building like any down-on-his-luck petty criminal in the world above was one of the only Robot Masters who'd only had one copy of him ever built, and that destroyed almost as soon as it had been. More importantly, he was another of only three of his kind to exist without the First Law of Robotics, and in fact the only one to actually _break _it and survive with his mind fully functional, a feat that had made him a living legend when he'd come to Mecha.

His armor had been a gold and black color scheme originally, but when he'd been remodeled, decades after his creation, the latter had been changed out for silver. He'd also added a green cape, short enough to not interfere in combat, which he'd seen a great deal of, more than anybody in Mecha save for those who'd come with him and King himself. At the same time, he'd taken to leaving his Egyptian headpiece off when not preparing for battle, revealing his bald, tanned head. The cotton mouthpiece, he'd discarded entirely, whether fully armored or clad more casually.

"You've heard the word, then," Prince replied, smiling slightly. "I thought you would have. You know what it implies, as well, better than the citizens."

"We all do," Pharaoh Man, son of Doctor Sergei Cossack, agreed. "Both my brethren and my reploid friends. You've told us enough that we've been able to figure out most of the rest." Arms folded, he met Prince's eyes calmly, his own black ones resolute. "You'll be bringing him down here with you when you return, then."

"Assuming I'm able to talk him into it?" Prince rolled his eyes, smiling. "That's the plan."

"You will," Pharaoh Man assured him. "You're good at that, and it's a nonviolent solution. He may have changed since last we met, but not so much that he won't prefer that, if you give him a logical reason." He looked down at his feet. "When you do... we'd prefer it if you didn't mention us, right at first. I'll tell the others while you're out, but I wanted to catch you first."

"I think I can agree to that." Prince nodded slowly. "Saving it for later?"

"For a more opportune time," Pharaoh Man explained. "Too many shocks, all at once, probably wouldn't be a good idea. The fewer surprises that rush him all in one go, the better, and he's going to have enough to deal with right at first as it is. Our reunion can wait until a return visit." He smiled as well. "Besides, it'll probably go over better at that point, too. I'm not sure how he'd react to the discovery of our presence before he's had time to get the rest straight. We'll make sure to stay out of his way until he leaves, the first time."

"You're probably right," Prince agreed. "On all counts. I just hope it doesn't prove too difficult to accept. If his majesty has a weakness, it's that he sometimes overestimates the ability of other people to follow his thoughts." He dropped the smile then. "Of course, after you _do _reveal yourselves to him... well, you know what's likely to follow very shortly."

"Of course." Pharaoh Man's face grew grim as well. "I know that better than even you, my friend. Better than anybody in this city, save perhaps for King himself. Why do you think Dive Man, Skull Man and Dust Man changed their minds about being upgraded and preparing to join the other five of us in combat once more?"

"Because you knew it would be necessary," Prince acknowledged, dipping his head. "Despite the fact that you have all already done more than anybody in this story of ours, save perhaps for the family of Light, for this world. Yes, I suppose you do know. Very well, my friend. Prepare however you see fit, then. I will do the same."

"Good luck," Pharaoh Man replied, nodding, before slipping back into the shadows of the alley.

No further interruptions occurred on Prince's walk to the elevator out, and soon he was riding a civilian hoverbike along the Sacred Plains, mind racing as he considered the task ahead of him. All too soon, he approached Tokyo's city limits. Driving through the streets, as casually as any other reploid, he passed undetected by civilians and local law enforcement both. Only the Maverick Hunters even suspected who he was, although he knew that soon, that would change forever. Soon, everything would change forever.

The sun was rising, and the sky was blue, when he parked his hovercycle outside Maverick Hunter Headquarters. Climbing off, he took a moment to take the sight in; for obvious reasons, none of Mecha's inhabitants had come anywhere near the building until Duke and Marquis' apprehension, and it was doubtful that the two of them had had the opportunity to get a good look from the street outside. Only a moment, and then he was moving again, strolling through the reinforced sliding glass doors and into the lobby as casually as if he were a normal reploid coming to enlist.

"Yes?" The receptionist glanced up, a standard smile on her features, as he approached her desk. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to speak to Mega Man X, Captain of the 17th Unit, in regards to the two prisoners he brought in yesterday," Prince told her calmly, as her eyes widened in surprise. "If you'll put me through to him, I think he'll be very interested in what I have to say."

**March 2, 2185, 7:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Just another day..." X muttered to himself as he slowly sat up in his bed. A moment later, he remembered what had happened on the previous day, and shook his head slowly. "Or maybe not, after all." Standing, he shifted his sleepclothes for his armor, and winced at the split-second stab of pain. It hadn't gotten any worse since Lifesaver had given him his death sentence, but that was hardly comforting.

"Here you go," Alia said crisply as he walked out, handing him a mug of coffee without even turning to look at him; she was concentrating on her datapad at the moment.

"Good morning to you too," he joked, taking a sip as the two of them started walking down the hall. "Have they said anything yet?"

"Not much," Alia replied. "Signas, Lassiter, and Pitbull have all taken turns with them. The Commanding Officer was the only one who was able to even get them to talk at all. I think it's safe to say they know what they're doing."

"They didn't squawk for Pitbull?" X blinked. "Huh. Yeah, that says a lot, right there. How'd Signas manage it, then?"

"He rather pointedly asked why they weren't even curious as to what we were doing with the Robot Masters they were trying to unearth," she explained. "That got to them. The prettyboy actually started making threats before the one with the mustache shut him up."

"I suppose that would do it, yes," X said, frowning slightly. "What _are _we doing with those, anyways? Signas wasn't talking when I turned in."

"He's decided to leave them in stasis, for the moment," she told him. "We _are_ keeping those capsules in one of our maximum security areas, though, and we're not telling anybody outside of the building about them, so it's safe to say he considers them important. Most likely, he's simply waiting until we find out more before he decides what to do with them."

Once they'd brought Duke and Marquis back to the MHHQ, the Hunters had decided to finish what their targets had started, and excavated the stash they'd been searching for. It had turned out that the stasis capsule they'd been pulling out was only the first of four. The cache had contained a Lighttech Fire Man, a custom design Knight Man, and two Wilybots, a Wood Man and a Shade Man. All four seemed perfectly preserved, if inactive, and the Hunters had hauled them back to the base, still in their capsules.

"Good." X said, nodding. "What about the computer systems inside that stash? Have we had any luck breaking in and figuring out who built it?"

"I'm afraid so," Alia said, and the grim tone in her voice caused X to turn his head and look at her. She was no longer focusing on her datapad, but staring straight ahead as she walked, her features flat and composed. "A couple of my girls worked overnight down there, with some of the 8th standing guard in case of interruptions. They managed to get in sometime around 0300 hours." She took a breath before continuing. "It was set up by Dr. Wily himself."

"Wily," X muttered, remembering everything he'd heard about the one man in history who had arguably been even more of a plague on Earth than Sigma. An old man, a mad genius who'd once been a hero before descending into insanity and making numerous plays for world domination, sending out hordes of robotic armies who'd caused the deaths of millions before the original Mega Man had stopped them, every time. "Why would he do that?"

"Contingency planning, apparently," she said, shrugging. "From what they were able to get out of there, that cache was one of many that were hidden all over the world just in case he would need them, some day. As far as I know, he did that sort of thing a lot. History claims that before he started a new Robot Rebellion, he always made sure he had not one, but two Skull Fortresses on hand. One to use immediately, and one to run away to and hide after it was all over so he could cook up his next atrocity."

"That was the way he worked, all right," X agreed, closing his eyes. "But Wily's dead. He's been dead for a century. Even he wasn't able to escape _that_, in the end. Which means those caches are just leftovers. Relics of the past."

"Signas came to the same conclusion, and I agreed with him," Alia replied, relaxing now. "The systems had nothing pertaining to a specific plan, and apparently he set them up some time prior to the Ninth Robot Rebellion. If those people hadn't dug it up, it would have just remained there forever. Waiting for a resurrection that would never come."

"Kind of like me, if Dr. Cain hadn't found me," X murmured, before a thought struck him. "You said there were others. Did the computer have locations?"

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid not." Alia shook her head. "At least, none that we were able to find. There was a lot that was in there that was just nonsensical gibberish, which means it's probably under some kind of cypher. We're still working on it." She glanced at him. "You're thinking the same thing I am, I take it?"

"Those guys knew what they were looking for," X said, glancing ahead at the door to the base's little-used detention center. It was only on rare occasions that the Hunters took prisoners; if a Maverick had knowledge that would be useful, then chances were that they were too dangerous to risk lives trying to take them alive, especially if they were Infected. "That wasn't just a wild-goose chase. Makes me think that they've done that before. If each of those caches had four or more Robot Masters, and they've been doing this for a long time now..."

"Then with those alone, not even counting all their _other _'recruitments,' they could have more than a hundred of those," Alia finished the thought for him as they walked inside, nodding to the pair of guard on duty on either side of the door before continuing down to the last room, which had two more. "All potentially upgraded as well. I don't like the sound of that at all."

"I'd be worried if you did," X agreed, tapping in his ID code on the keypad that opened the door. Both Duke and Marquis were inside, lying on their backs on flat, angled surfaces that restrained them at arms, legs, waist and neck. Despite their immobility, neither of them looked particularly troubled; more than anything, they seemed bored. "Good morning, you two. I suppose I should apologize for our hospitality, but it's somewhat necessary, under the circumstances. Hopefully, you won't hold any grudges." He waited a moment, but neither of them responded.

"You see what I mean," Alia told him, as the two of them sat down in chairs opposite the prisoners. "It's been like this ever since we brought them in here. They're not even trying to be smart. They're just not talking."

"There are a couple of different ways to read that," X said, folding his arms. "The easiest that comes to mind is that they've both given up. They consider themselves expendable, and believe that whoever they're working for has already written them off as a loss. If that's the case, and they're willing to accept that, then the only thing left for them to worry about would be minimizing the damage. Bad enough that they're going out. They wouldn't want to spill any secrets in the process, especially if they'd rather die than talk."

"A possibility," Alia agreed, looking them both over critically. "I doubt it, though. If that was what they wanted, they could have set their microfusion processors to blow as soon as their friends had made their getaway. I'll grant you that not everybody has the guts to commit that kind of explosive suicide, but considering they sacrificed themselves so the others could escape, I think it's safe to say they'd be able to go through with it."

"Yes, but if they'd done that, they'd likely have taken some of us out with them," X pointed out, deliberately turning his head to glance at her while watching the prisoners out of the corner of his eye. "Their activities are suspicious, to put it lightly, but so far their group has made a deliberate effort to avoid killing both civilians and Hunters. If they're good guys after all, maybe they didn't want to take anybody with them." Neither captive so much as glanced his way at his guess. "Of course, they could still have just ripped or blown their own heads off."

"Exactly." Alia nodded. "So I think we can discount the martyr theory. There's simply too many holes in it. Which brings us to the other possibility that comes to mind immediately. If they don't plan on dying, and they're not even going to try talking their way out, then they expect that they'll be able to get out of here through some other method other than cooperating with us. And there's only one conclusion to draw from that."

"They're not giving up, and they're not counting on whoever they work for to give up _on _them, either," X continued. "I just hope it's not going to be a frontal assault in order to spring them. Setting aside the fact that that would completely blow their previous modus operandi-stealth and secrecy, so as to avoid detection-out of the water, that hasn't worked on the MHHQ in decades. The last time it got anywhere at all was the Third Maverick Uprising, back in 2127, and even then, we were able to fend them off."

"Personally, I doubt it will come to that," Alia told him clinically. "These gentlemen seem more than fairly intelligent, so I assume whoever's in command of their group is as well. They're certainly smart enough that they haven't tried making a break for it. The one named Marquis could probably break his restraints if he wanted to, considering the nature of his weapons systems; that's actually a very interesting design, even if it's a little Marvel Comics. I'm actually kind of curious as to how he does it, but taking a look to find out wouldn't exactly be polite."

"We _do _try to have some standards around here, even when it comes to prisoners," X agreed. "Especially when it comes to prisoners, actually. They all do, really; with the exception of that one guy... Earl, I think his name was... all of their weapons seem to be based entirely on their own interior systems. Probably so that they can use them at a moment's notice even when in disguise as humans, which was also a rather unusual part of their design. I'm guessing that whoever built them did so with that in mind intentionally. More stealth and secrecy."

"It all comes down to that in the end, doesn't it?" Alia said, still carefully keeping her face blank. "Remaining undetected. If it weren't for that one stroke of bad luck in which you originally discovered them, with that pair with the Guts Man-I really do wish we at least had names to work with on those two, just for convenience-we still probably wouldn't have any idea that they existed at all. If I didn't know better, and if it wasn't _them_, I'd almost suspect that the New Maverick Nation found them out before we did and intentionally set us against... well, now." She turned her head as both of the two prisoners' eyes widened.

"It seems we managed to get a reaction at last." X glanced at them as well, but kept the routine going. "I have to admit, I wouldn't have expected _that _to be what rattled them. Or is it simply the thought that somebody, anybody, would actually know about them and set them up? Even if it _is _the New Maverick Nation."

"Look, could you stop doing that?" Marquis finally snapped, rolling his eyes. "I'm the last person who should call anybody out on being patronizing, I'll admit, but even so, that's really very annoying."

"Really?" X met his eyes. "Well, the thing is, we're really very annoyed. I meant what I said before; I actually do appreciate your methods, at least in regards to keeping the violence down as much as possible. But deliberately vague mysteries get on my nerves, too. Especially when they involve publicly humiliating the Hunters. There was a time when that didn't really mean all that much, since our reputation wasn't really much to speak of anyways, but that's in the past. These days, it's actually _important_, as hard as that might be to believe."

"It really is," Alia agreed, looking at Duke. "I was being honest as well, when I said that you both seemed intelligent. It's a shame that you were the ones we finally managed to catch. I doubt that Earl or Baron would have been anywhere near as reticent as you two. The other pair would probably have been a little better, but they seem the type to love the sound of their own voices, so they'd likely have only been able to go so long without saying _something_. You two, on the other hand, know what you're doing."

"The only problem is, a stalemate doesn't help any of us," X pointed out. "We're not going to try making threats; if the bad cop routine didn't work when Pitbull and Lassiter tried it, _we _wouldn't get anywhere with it. I prefer being reasonable anyways. Even if you're waiting for somebody else to do something, you could still make the best of your situation. You could at _least _try to get something out of _us _by offering some information that's not even meaningful. The names of the first two, for example."

"You assume that you _have _any knowledge that we want," Marquis said with a sneer. "Isn't it interesting, Hunter, that despite the fact that you've taken us prisoner, _we're _the ones who seem to be holding all the cards?"

"Brilliant," Duke remarked, rolling his eyes. "Go back to stubborn silence, why don't you? Now _they _know how much _we _know about them, thanks to your colossal arrogance."

"I doubt that, to be honest," Alia remarked, smiling slightly, as she exchanged a glance with X. "You're good, but not _that _good. I find it highly improbable that you're able to penetrate our security and gain full access to _all _of our information."

"That might not be quite what he meant," X pointed out. "Maybe it's just that they have no actual _interest _in that sort of thing, and that what surveillance of our activities they _are _capable of tells them all they need to know about us. They do seem to have been keeping at least some sort of an eye on us over the years, which is understandable. The question is, was that solely in order to make sure we stayed off of _their _backs, or is there another reason for it?" He waited for a few moments, but neither of the two responded.

"I thought you preferred it when we actually talked to you, rather than about you," Alia told them, raising an eyebrow. "If you don't want us to go back to that, you're going to have to give us _something _to work with."

"Even if it's just pointless chatter," X suggested. "You could even start insulting us, if you'd like. That would still be preferable to talking to a couple of walls. Or are you just waiting for us to give up and go away?"

"That does seem to..." Alia started to say, then paused, raising a hand to her headset. "Hold on a second. One of my girls is calling me." She waited a few moments, during which X obligingly remained silent, before continuing. "Interesting. I assume the Hunters on guard duty have him covered? Good. What were his exact words?" Another beat, as she slowly frowned. "I see. Call Donia, and... no, she's working with the 19th right now. Make that Lily. Have her pull up the mugshots of the eight known suspects connected to that case and see if he's one of them. For now, make sure he doesn't go anywhere. I'll tell Captain X, and we'll be up there shortly."

"An unexpected development?" X asked, keeping his eyes on the prisoners.

"You could say that," Alia said, and the odd tone in her voice made him turn to her; she was frowning, and her eyes were sharp. "Then again, perhaps not entirely. It seems that we were right about what these two were planning. Their backup has arrived."

"Somebody else came for them?" X guessed. "I take it he's not trying anything."

"No, he's not." Alia shook her head. "He just parked a hoverbike out front, walked on in, dressed like a civilian, and asked Rebecca to put him through to you. Or if not that, to at least send a message so you'd come up and say hi."

"Me specifically, huh?" X frowned. "What'd he say?"

"He said his name was Prince, and that he was second-in-command of something called 'Mecha,'" she told him quietly, meeting his eyes. "And that, in order to arrange for his comrades' freedom, he was willing to take you to meet somebody who would give you all the answers you wanted, and more. To the hidden city of the Robot Masters."

"Huh," X murmured, as his thoughts raced; it was only through a great deal of effort, accumulated through more than eighty years of practice, that he kept his voice calm. "Isn't _that _interesting."

Both Duke and Marquis were smiling now, still silent, and neither expression was particularly pleasant.


	6. Chapter 5: Following Tombstones

_**Chapter 5: Following Tombstones **_

**June 4th, 2095, 3:00 PM **

**Sardinia, Italy **

"This way," the extremely large gentleman in the black suit said gruffly, indicating the front door of the sizable villa overlooking the coast. "No sudden movements."

Trenton Corbun resisted the urge to say something sarcastic in response; he had the feeling that the guard, along with the others stationed around the building, were likely to be the sort who lacked a sense of humor. Instead, he simply nodded, and allowed himself to be led to the back patio. Seemingly open to the sea breeze, it was almost certainly shielded by some sort of force field, along with the electromagnetic bubble around the entire villa, preventing robots from warping in or out.

"Trenton," the villa's owner said, glancing over his shoulder as they approached and making no move to rise. Darwin Vinkus hadn't changed as much as Corbun had over the years, but then, he'd had more of a head start. Portly and dour, with small-lensed glasses and thinning hair that had started going gray before he hit forty-likely due to the stress of his position on the United Nations security council-he looked much the same in his sixties as he had in his fifties, or even his forties, sitting at a patio table with a book in hand.

"Darwin," Trenton replied, holding out his hand, more to needle his old friend into taking it than out of any actual desire to shake hands with him. The two of them had never truly gotten along during the years in which they'd both been part of Thomas Light's social circle, along with the eccentric billionaire known as "Mr. X" and, later, Sergei Cossack. All the same, they'd eventually developed a grudging tolerance, and even a sort of respect for each other. "I like your new place. Very nice. Warm, comfortable. And of course, big. Very big." He glanced at the guard.

"Not to mention, secluded," Vinkus said pointedly, sighing and shaking Trenton's hand, though he remained in his chair. "In theory, at any rate. That will do, Andre."

"Sir?" The guard raised an eyebrow. "Are you quite sure?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't," Vinkus snapped back. "Trenton here is an old friend, although I'm still not quite sure _why_. He's no threat. Return to your post."

"Sir." The guard saluted, still looking reluctant, before walking off.

"I see the years haven't helped your temper," Corbun noted, taking a seat opposite Vinkus without waiting to be invited to. "Not that that's surprising, really." He glanced at the book's cover. "Although it seems your reading habits have improved. Asimov? You?"

"The same could be said for your sense of humor," Vinkus retorted, ignoring the comment on his book. "I suppose it was too much to hope for that age would bring maturity."

"You know me better than that," Corbun said, smirking.

"I do," Vinkus admitted. "Still, hope springs eternal." They both fell silent then, looking out to sea on a mutual impulse, and watched the waves break for some time, before Corbun spoke again.

"You don't make it easy to find you these days, old friend," he said quietly. "I had to call in quite a few favors in order to track you down, some of which I daresay would surprise even you."

"They might," Vinkus conceded. "And then again, they might not. I'm sure you can imagine what I had to do to make it happen in the first place."

"Have you become _that _misanthropic?" Corbun raised an eyebrow. "I recall you being anything but. It was one of the few things I admired about you. I doubt _I _would have been able to maintain such faith in humanity, if I had your job."

"Faith isn't exactly the word I'd use," Vinkus murmured. "As for your question... can you blame me for wanting to live out the rest of my life in peace and quiet, Trenton? The United Nations are gone, like we all knew they would be by now. This new 'Global Defense Council' that everybody's talking about will have no need for a relic from the past like me. I've done my time, and my duty, and now I simply want to go the rest of my life without any more trouble. Is that too much to ask?"

"I suppose not." Corbun shook his head, resisting the urge to use that as an opening to lead into his reason for coming. He'd had his suspicions even before his arrival, and what he'd seen and heard so far had only increased them. He was no longer sure he'd made the right choice by tracking his old friend down, and another awkward silence fell over them both, reflecting that.

"Trenton," Vinkus said eventually, wearily. "_Why _are you here?"

"Cutting to the chase, are we?" Corbun replied, turning to face him again. "Fair enough. I suppose I can do the same. Speaking plainly, my friend-and I know that we _are_ friends, despite appearances-there's something I could use your help with, Darwin. At least, that was what I thought before I came here. Now, I'm not so sure you don't have something yourself."

"I suppose I should have known you'd still be up to no good, even now," Vinkus replied, his voice whimsically sardonic for a moment, although that quickly faded. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Trenton. But I meant what I said. I'm retired, and I plan on staying that way. I have no interest in private affairs any more than I do public ones. I'm done playing that game. I'm off the board."

"That's not the way it works," Corbun argued. "You know it's not. This is _important_, Darwin. I need-"

"Stop," Vinkus said firmly, raising a hand, and his eyes were sharp and dangerous now. "Not another word, Trenton. I don't know what you're doing, and I don't _want _to know what you're doing. Suspicion is one thing, but actual knowledge of your current activities is another. As you said, we _are _friends, and because of that, I've kept _away _from you ever since my retirement. Don't force my hand on this, Trenton. Please."

"Then there _is _something that you're involved in, yourself," Corbun murmured, meeting his eyes. "I suppose I should have known. A quiet retirement never was your style. You always preferred keeping active."

"_Trenton_," Vinkus warned him.

"All right, all right." Corbun held up his hands, relenting. "I won't ask for details. I won't even ask for generalities, even. It's better if I don't know, right?"

"Correct." Vinkus slowly nodded. "Just as it's better if you don't breathe another word of what it is you're up to." He sighed, then, and it was the first time he'd ever actually _looked _his age, despite aesthetics. "We're the last ones left, Trenton. Us and Sergei, and unlike us, he's doing the smart thing now that it's all over. We owe this much to them. To avert our eyes, both of us."

"So you know," Corbun said quietly. "About Al, and Tom, and..." He left it hanging.

"Yes," Vinkus replied, just as quietly. "I do."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I knew you'd know, too."

"Ah." Corbun tilted his head, conceding that, and they both remained silent for some time yet again before he continued. "I suppose I shouldn't have come here."

"No," Vinkus agreed, and there was neither scorn nor sorrow in his voice, simply fact. "You shouldn't have. In fact, perhaps it would be best if this never happened at all. For both of us."

"Your men are that loyal to you?" Corbun asked, in the same tone of voice. "Personally?"

"They are." Vinkus nodded.

"Then you're right," Corbun admitted, standing again. "That's probably the best way. This never happened. The last time we ever saw each other was after X's funeral. After... what we discussed there. With Tom."

"After what he entrusted us with," Darwin Vinkus murmured, and now he seemed to be seeking something in Corbun's eyes, something he needed to see, almost desperately. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, for a moment later, he relaxed again. "Goodbye, Trenton. And good luck."

"Goodbye, Darwin," Corbun replied, starting to walk away and knowing that it was, truly, the last time he would ever see his reluctant friend. "And good luck."

**March 2, 2185, 7:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"All right," Signas said quietly as X and Alia both took seats before his desk, rubbing his forehead in an unusual display of stress; he considered it justified by the situation. "Run it past me one more time, while he's still on his way up here." Five minutes ago, Alia had called him to report the latest developments concerning their prisoners, and once he'd been filled in, he'd ordered them both to report to his office immediately.

"Yes, sir." Alia nodded. "Ten minutes ago, an unarmed humanoid reploid in casual clothing, perfectly identical to a human, entered the building. He approached Rebecca, and asked her to call up X, specifically, claiming that he was here to talk about the prisoners we took yesterday. We were in the middle of taking our turn at interrogating them at the time, and I can say with relative certainty that we now know why they were so reticent. They knew this would happen, and they've been waiting for it the entire time."

"We had a little more luck than Lassiter and Pitbull," X added. "I don't think either of them really understand that sometimes, subtle works better."

"I take it this newcomer is one of the other six on our watch list connected to this case." Signas guessed, ignoring that. "Most likely, one of the two who we haven't encountered until now."

"Correct." Alia nodded. "Rebecca immediately had every Hunter on guard duty in the lobby cover him, but he didn't seem to care. He identified himself as Prince, which fits the naming theme we've seen so far, and claimed to be number two of their group, which he called 'Mecha.' According to him, the reason he wants to talk to X is to offer to take him to their headquarters, wherever it is they operate out of, and presumably keep all those Robot Masters they keep stealing. He seems to think that by doing this, he'll be able to convince us to free the prisoners."

"That was when we called you up," X finished. "We figured you'd want to hear about all this, as quickly as possible." He still wasn't sure how he felt about the offer himself; there were half a dozen different reactions all whirling around in his head at once, and none of them were taking precedence over the others just yet.

"You were entirely correct in that assumption." Signas nodded. "And I want to hear it from this 'Prince' himself. He's currently being escorted here by four Hunters, who I've ordered to take him out at the first sign of suspicious activity. If he's as much of a professional as he wants us to think he is, he won't do anything stupid. Which gives us a couple of minutes to discuss our options before he arrives. I'll start with the obvious conclusion. How likely is it that this is a trap, some ploy of theirs meant to capture or even kill you, X?"

"Honestly?" X looked thoughtful. "It's a possibility, but I doubt it, both on evidence and on my own instincts. Those two prisoners aren't acting like write-offs. They knew this was going to happen, or at least that it was a possibility, before they even went to the North Pole. Whatever Prince is up to, they know it, and they're both behaving like they fully expect to walk out of here. They're smart enough to know that if something _does _happen to me, both of their heads will go under the ax."

"I agree." Alia nodded. "If these were normal Mavericks, I'd be certain of some sort of trap, but these ones aren't. They're very good, very intelligent, very skilled, and so far they've been going out of their way to avoid violence unless absolutely necessary. Even during a full engagement with the 17th, they didn't fight to kill. It's possible that all of that was some sort of set-up to get us to trust them, but I don't think so. Duke and Marquis both know that the only way they're getting out of here alive is if X comes back and talks you into letting them go, sir."

"And for me to agree to that, this is going to _have _to be good, no matter how nice they've been playing this far," Signas replied dryly. "Assuming this offer of theirs is on the level, then, what is it that they _do _want? Why is this 'Prince' insisting that X come with him, rather than explaining himself here and now? That would be much more convenient, and more likely to get us to agree. He must have some reason for such a specific request."

"He did say that he wanted me to meet somebody else," X recalled, frowning. "And that whoever that was would tell me everything I wanted to know, and more, as well. A pretty tempting offer, I have to admit, but I should also admit that I'm not entirely impartial here."

"This case involves your past," Alia said quietly. "More than any of us here, you're connected to the Robot Masters. You, and your brothers and sister, are the missing link between Robot Masters and reploids."

"Yeah." X nodded. "Exactly. Whatever's going on here, I want the answers. And..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I want to believe they're on the level. That their reasons for doing all of this are good ones. Of course, I'm also aware that it's entirely probable they predicted I'd react that way, and are using that to their advantage, so that I'll agree to a deal I'd normally be a lot more skeptical about."

"Possible, but we're moving a little too far into abstract territory," Signas said. "Let's get back on track. Prince said that he is their organization's second-in-command. Assuming that he's being honest about that, and that this isn't a trap, then we should logically conclude that whoever he wants you to meet knows more about their purpose than he does himself. If he's on the level, then that's the only reason he wouldn't be the one telling you whatever it is they want you to know."

"And the only person who would know than him would be whoever _is _their leader," Alia continued. "Likely, the man or reploid who started this whole thing. The one who set this operation into motion in the first place, more than half a century ago. Most likely a reploid, considering the timespan, but we can't say that for certain."

"Sounds about right to me." X nodded. "So we know what he's suggesting, and when, and presumably 'where' and 'who' will become apparent if I agree, along with 'how.' That just leaves the question of _why_, which is the important one, as far as I'm concerned."

"Indeed." Signas steepled his fingers. "I suggest we see how cooperative our guest is. If he's willing to say a little more, even if he insists on leaving most of it to whoever he works for, that has the potential to increase _my _inclination to trust him."

"Mine as well," Alia agreed, and X nodded as well.

"All right, let's go with that, for now," he said, before turning his head as the door to the office opened automatically. "And speak of the devil. Let him come on in, boys. You stay out there, for now, but don't go anywhere. I'll call you if we need you."

"But sir..." One of the Hunters started to say, before shaking his head. "Yes, sir."

"I appreciate that," Prince murmured, walking in. "It's probably best to keep this conversation restricted, for the moment." He glanced at each of them in turn. "Commander Signas, Head Navigator Alia, and Mega Man X, I presume?"

"You've done your homework," Alia replied, just as calmly. "I like seeing that. On the other hand, I'm afraid we haven't been able to scrape up much on your organization. Mecha, wasn't it?"

"That is the name, although it's not so much an organization as it is a place," Prince explained. "A city, to be specific."

"A holy one, perhaps?" Signas asked, raising an eyebrow. "Whoever named it had interesting tastes in ancient history."

"He did, at that." Prince smiled wryly. "As well as a somewhat warped sense of humor. It runs in his family."

"I take it you're referring to your leader?" X asked cautiously. "Whoever it is you want me to come meet?"

"That's correct." Prince nodded. "He's wanted to meet you for some time, actually, but necessity prevented that until our higher priorities became irrelevant." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Nearly a century of secrecy, operating entirely undetected by the rest of the world, a spotless record of stealth... and it all goes out the window in less than a year, thanks to a random coincidence. Although I don't really believe in those, any more."

"We tend to be somewhat skeptical about them ourselves," Alia agreed, folding her arms. "I'll ask the obvious question, then, and get it out of the way. Why should we trust you, Mister Prince? So far, you haven't caused the deaths of any civilians or Hunters, which is a point in your favor, but hardly enough to convince us alone. Especially since your activities have still been illegal, the theft of the Quick Man several months ago in particular. How do we know that this isn't a trap?"

"I'll be honest with you, Miss Alia." Prince met her eyes calmly. "You don't. If you'd like, I'd be willing to leave and return with more hostages to remain here, in addition to my brothers, who I assure you I care about deeply. No matter how irritating they are at times. Or, if you'd prefer, I'll bring another guide for X and remain here myself. I'm aware, however, that neither would be sufficient for absolute trust. To be blunt, the only way you're _going _to trust us is if one of you sees our reasons for all of this with his own eyes."

"I take it that's why you insist on bringing me there, instead of just telling it to me straight," X guessed. "You figure I won't believe it unless I see it myself, like you said."

To that, Prince only shrugged, smiling again.

"I assume, then, that there is one exception to your offer," Signas said, meeting his eyes. "This leader of yours, who wishes to meet with X. He is unwilling to do so anywhere but on his own home ground, then?"

"Correct." Prince nodded, his smile vanishing. "For many reasons, he has not left Mecha in fifty years. When he does..." He shook his head, grimacing. "Well, that's not for me to say, so I'm afraid you'll have to take my word that when he does, we'll all have much greater things to worry about than a robbery here and there."

"How very mysterious," Alia replied, visibly unamused. "The next question that comes to mind is, why X? Out of everybody working here, why does your leader want to talk with him? I'm sure there's a reason, and I'd like to hear it."

"There is." Prince glanced at the door. "I assume this room is soundproofed, and regularly checked for listening devices other than your own. If so, I'd like to ask you to disable those as well, Commander Signas. What I'm about to tell you should stay between the three of you for now."

"You do intend to give us something ahead of time, then?" Signas asked, remaining still for the moment despite the gradually rising tension in the room.

"I'm aware that for trust to be received, it must first be given," Prince explained. "So, yes. If you swear to keep it off the books, I'll answer your question, Miss Alia, along with that of who it is I'm working for. You might not have come right out and asked that one, but I can read between the lines of what you _have _been saying."

"All right." X nodded, giving Signas and Alia both a glance. "I'll bite. You have my word."

"And mine," Alia agreed, somewhat more reluctantly.

"Mine as well." Signas typed a few commands into the terminal on his desk that would do what Prince had asked. "There. All listening devices have been disabled inside this room."

"Very well." Prince closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "The reason my leader requested you specifically, Mega Man X... is because in a certain light, you and he could be considered to be family, through bonds other than bloodlines. The ruler of Mecha is one who was once condemned by all the world, though he has mended his ways since those dark days. A child of Wily."

"The sons of Wily?" X murmured, eyes wide in disbelief. Alia looked no less stunned, and Signas himself felt just as shaken, though he kept his face calm. "I remember that term. There were three of them, in the time of the Robot Masters. I _know _that two of them are dead. Doc Man, and Bass. But the third... the one named King... his death was never confirmed by anybody."

"He simply disappeared, following the Ninth and final Robot Rebellion," Prince said, nodding. "Granted his life by the original Mega Man, your younger brother, he swore an oath to never take human life again, and went away. In time, however, events in the world forced him to begin taking action once more... this time, on a mission of preservation, rather than one of destruction."

"But he is still a killer of humans, yes?" Signas asked pointedly. "Or was, once?"

"He was, once," Prince acknowledged. "Under the law, past and present, he would be sentenced to death if captured. That is one of the reasons why he wishes for you to come to him, rather than the other way around. It's nothing personal, but we really can't afford to take the risk that you might decide that duty trumps necessity."  
>"To be perfectly honest with you, I'm still not entirely convinced that this <em>is <em>necessary," X told him. "On the other hand, you've certainly suggested in piquing my curiosity. And I appreciate the honesty."

"One more question, then," Alia said, watching Prince carefully. "_Why_, exactly, does King wish to meet with X? Now, of all times?"

"There are many reasons for that, as well," Prince replied, meeting her eyes calmly. "But the most important, at least to me, is to ensure our survival. At this rate, it's only a matter of time before you Hunters track us down anyways. Once you do, you would be perfectly capable of destroying us; we would be forced to fight back, of course, but I'll be blunt. We wouldn't stand a chance. The only way for us to survive _that _potential conflict is to ensure that it never takes place at all. To convince you that we are no threat to the world, under any circumstances."

"That's a pretty tall order," she shot back. "Do you have that much confidence in your leader? To believe that he can really pull that off, just by talking to X?"

"Just by talking?" Prince shook his head. "No. That's another reason we want to do this on our home turf." He glanced back to X. "We want you to see, with your own eyes, what we're doing. What our purpose is, and why we're doing it. Talk is cheap. It's one thing to tell you why. Showing you is another story."

"Can't argue with that one," X admitted, before glancing at Signas. "Well? What's it going to be, then?"

"That's your decision, not mine." Signas told him, his thoughts still racing. "While I still don't entirely trust this situation, I must admit, I find myself intrigued as well. And if Prince here is being honest, and his people have no violent intentions against us... then the ramifications of this 'Mecha' may be beyond our capacity to imagine. I will not order you for or against this situation, X. Your presence is the one that is requested, so I will leave it up to you... with one caveat."

"Which is?" Prince asked, looking at him now.

"Should your words be true, and should we come to an amicable agreement, I would like to visit this city as well, one day," Signas explained. "Not now; even were this offer extended to me as well, I would have to decline. But someday, in the future, once peaceful relationships have been established... I would like to see this 'Mecha' of yours."

"You have my word, Commander Signas," Prince told him, bowing respectfully. "One day, if our hopes come to pass, you will be welcomed into Mecha's streets."

"Alia?" X asked her next, glancing at her.

"I don't know," she replied, frowning now. "I'm assuming that wherever you go, I won't be able to be connected with you, and I don't like that thought. But I can see how strongly you feel about this, so whatever you decide, I'll back you up."

"Then I'm going," X decided. "This might be a mistake, but I don't think it is. We all said that we wanted answers. This is the best way to get them." He looked to Prince. "I assume you took a hoverbike?"

"They're our preferred method of ground transportation." The other reploid nodded.

"I'll have Douglas get one for you," Alia told X.

"Good." X took a deep breath. "I'll go tell Arvis he's in charge until I get back, although hopefully that won't be relevant, and then we can get going. The sooner, the better."

"Indeed," Signas agreed, as he wondered once more just where all of this would end.

**March 2, 2185, 8:00 AM **

**Mecha **

The _Daftendirekt _was one of Mecha's most popular music halls, although in the world above, it would have been called a nightclub. The difference was that ninety-nine percent of its patrons had no need or use for alcohol or any other drug, and even less for sexual encounters, in a city full of Robot Masters. Thus, the Awakened came when off the clock for the sole purpose of enjoying the music, mostly rock and electronic from the world above, though occasionally some of the few among their number who had taken to the art form played live.

This morning, however, the place was dead, even moreso than usual at the early hour. In fact, the only patron on the premises at all was Viscount, who sat back on his and Margravine's usual couch and took in an old Springsteen tune while one of the Unawakened stood placidly in the control booth overhead, doing his duty without notice or care for the emptiness of the hall below him.

"I was wondering where you were," an all-too-familiar voice called his attention to the door, where Margravine stood, arms folded and eyebrow raised. "I'm surprised, actually. I didn't think you'd be here this early in the day, when we still have so many duties to perform." This was said with an absolutely straight face. "Especially without me."

"I made some efforts to locate you myself," Viscount replied, making no moves to rise. "After the first few resulted in total failure on all accounts, I decided that the quickest way to success would most likely be to find somewhere _you _would locate _me_. Eventually."

"So I was looking for you and you were looking for me and it's taken us both this long." Margravine rolled her eyes as she walked over. "Yes, that sounds about right." Sitting down next to him, she draped an arm over his shoulders, as did he to hers, before continuing. "Not that I really care, but have you done _anything _productive today? If for no other reason than to keep the rest of them off of our backs?"

"Not particularly, no." Viscount shook his head. "Yourself?"

"I spent some time looking over how they're doing in the art institute," she replied, smiling slightly. "I still wouldn't call what they're putting out _actual _art, but they're getting better. It's becoming increasingly difficult to tell where they're unconsciously cribbing their work from. One of them's bound to have a completely original idea soon enough."

"Marquis and Duke would tell you that at this point in sentient civilization's development, there _are _no original ideas left any more," he pointed out.

"Marquis and Duke are a pair of arrogant intellectual snobs," she replied flippantly. "Not to mention sentient supremacists. If we accept that the universe is constantly expanding, why is it so hard to believe that the capacity for creation is equally infinite?"

"That's getting a little too complex for me, I'm afraid," Viscount admitted. "I will, however, do my best to back you up all the way to the firing squad in the event of a debate on the subject with those two. Once they finally drag their sorry carcasses back here, that is."

"And probably sabotage my argument in the process," she replied dryly. "So, was this just your usual apathy, or did you have an actual _reason _for coming here this early? And is it related to the fact that we're the _only _ones here? Even at eight fifteen in the morning, this is sad."

"Indeed it is, and indeed it does," Viscount drawled, savoring the moment.

"Well?" She asked after a short silence.

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to tell me what it is, or am I going to have to throttle it out of you?"

"It's a little early for _that_, too, isn't it?" He joked before relenting. "The reason I dropped everything is because today, we will shortly have much more pressing matters to concern us, as will all of Mecha's citizenry, even sooner than we anticipated. Most of which I daresay are preparing themselves even as we speak, to greater or lesser degrees, save those who are on the clock at the moment."

"And nobody told me?" She demanded irritably.

"Presumably, they believed that telling one of us was equivalent to telling both," he replied. "An assumption which, you must admit, has a significant amount of established evidence behind it."

"Yes, yes." She wiggled a hand in the air dismissively. "Fair enough. So then, _are _you going to tell me?"

"I suppose I might as well." Viscount faked a heavy sigh before continuing. "It seems that the last living child of Light has accepted Prince's offer."

"Wait, what?" Margravine sat up ramrod-straight, all pretense of disinterest completely gone. "He's coming? He's really coming? _Now?_ Already?"

"Indeed he is." Viscount grinned, slow and sharp. "They'll both be here within the hour, though unfortunately, Duke and Marquis will not be accompanying them just yet. It seems the Maverick Hunters have learned not to extend too much trust at face value without some sort of leverage."  
>"Who <em>cares <em>about Duke and Marquis?" She shot back, standing. "It's happening! It's finally, actually _happening!_"

"I don't think 'joy' is _quite _the emotion most applicable to this situation," Viscount told her, though he kept smiling as well. "As much as we've anticipated this particular eventuality, what will soon follow it is a different story entirely."

"Oh, yeah." Margravine paused, wilting slightly. "Duh." A moment later, she recovered. "Yeah, okay. But that will be then, and this is now, and Mega Man X is coming!"

"Indeed he is," Viscount agreed, relenting. He was slightly more cynical by nature than his exuberant partner, but when she took off, it was difficult to keep from following along just as strongly. "All I'm saying is to remember to think long-term."

"We're _bad _at thinking long-term," she reminded him. "Both of us. Leave that to those of us more suited to it. I'll stick with reacting on impulse whenever possible, thank you very much."

"That _does _have its advantages," Viscount conceded. "All the same, I do hope your primary duty has been completed, or as near to as can be reasonably expected?"

"As near to, yeah." Margravine frowned now. "I've had Duke giving them psychological tests, and he agrees with me. Almost all of them are good. The only one I'm still worried about at all is Dundee, and that's only because he just hasn't had enough _time _here. Give him another year with us, and I'm sure he'd back us all the way to the last stand, but with the way the situation stands right now..." She shook her head angrily.

"A suggestion, if you don't mind," Viscount told her, dropping his own smile as well. "Trust him. And make it visibly apparent that you do. There's no faster way to ensure his loyalty than to give him your own."

"You're right," she agreed, relaxing. "We've seen far worse cases than him turn around, down here. It'll be fine." She glanced at him then, eyes teasing. "And what about you, then? How's yours coming along?"

"Completed," he replied, and though his tone was light, he kept his face sober; that topic was one that was serious enough that even he didn't consider it a joking matter. "I finalized my predictions last night, after you went into stasis."

"I would have stayed up with you," she said immediately, looking hurt.

"There was no need." He shook his head. "Why should you miss a few more hours simply because I was restless?"

"That's a logical assessment," she pointed out, shaking her head. "And logic sucks. We both prefer emotion any day, remember?"

"I'm aware, but logic _does _occasionally have its merits," he said. "You'd do the same if it were you. As a matter of fact, you have."

"Only when a new idea suddenly hit me," she replied. "I didn't want to forget it. That's not the same as when it's premeditated."

"Fortunately for me, that's exactly what happened," Viscount explained smoothly. "At any rate, it's done. I'll deliver the full report to his majesty once our visitor has satisfied his curiosity and departed, and then... well, we'll see where we go from there, but it'll be out of my hands."

"Only for the moment," she replied, looking more subdued now. "You were right. This might be what we've been waiting for, all these years, but at the same time... there's no turning back, from here on out. As soon as he leaves here again, that'll set all the rest of the wheels in motion as well, and the storm will be here before we know it."

"Before we know it," he repeated. "But not before his Majesty does."

"A valid point," Margravine admitted, relaxing slightly. "I _suppose _that makes me feel a little bit better. The thought that, no matter what happens or how bad it gets, at least we'll have his Majesty on our side."

"I know it certainly helps _me _rest easier at night, the previous incident notwithstanding," Viscount agreed. "Given the choice between him, alone, and an entire fleet of aerial assault carriers... well, that wouldn't be a choice at all, now would it?"

"No, I don't suppose it would," Margravine agreed. "Do you suppose we'll have time to make a stop by the Place of Memory in the Kingdome before he arrives? I'd like to get in a pr..." She tensed up abruptly. "Oh. Oh, damn. I forgot about that."

"About what?" Viscount replied, frowning, as he considered what she'd been saying, and quickly came to the same realization as his partner. "Oh. Oh, my, yes. That's going to be more than slightly awkward."

"I know, right?" She made a face. "Maybe we can just... sort of... hope it doesn't come up while he's here?"

"With the way the citizenry are likely to act around him, no matter _what _we tell them?" Viscount rolled his eyes. "There's no way he won't ask, and when he does, we'll be more or less obligated to answer him."

"Also a valid point." She grimaced. "This is going to be so _embarrassing_. And the worst part is, it made perfect sense at the time, even if his Majesty never approved."

"As always, he proves to have more foresight than the rest of us combined." Viscount sighed. "Ah, well. What's done is done, and there's no helping it at this point."

"No, there's not," she agreed. "We'll just have to hope he has enough of a sense of humor that he just starts laughing instead of getting angry. We might never have known the first Mega Man, but somehow, I doubt _he'd _be amused."

"No, he really wouldn't," Viscount murmured, wincing at the thought. "Let's go do something slightly less problematic, shall we?"

"Oh, _now _you want to do something?" She jibed him gently, elbowing him in the ribs. "Like what? You already said that none of our usual duties are important right now, all things considered, didn't you?"

"I did," Viscount agreed. "Which is why I suggest we set our minds to preparing for today. Make sure everything's going well in both of our districts. On the chance that he's in the mood for an extended tour, I certainly don't want ours to be anything less than immaculate. Do you?"

"Watcher, no," Margravine muttered, unconsciously evoking the name of her patron in the strange sort of religion the Robot Masters had created for themselves before their reploid overseers had realized what they were doing until it was too late. "Let's get moving."

The two of them left the music hall then, and proceeded down the streets of District Nine, Margravine's own. As they walked, despite keeping their appearance casual and placid, they inspected every building meticulously, and every Robot Master twice as much. The citizens were just as excited as they were, if not moreso, and the air itself almost seemed to buzz with the news of the day.

_He's coming. Mega Man X is coming to Mecha. _

**March 2, 2185, 8:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Douglas," X said, nodding at the mechanic as he and Alia walked into the MHHQ's garage bay; Signas had remained in his office. "Got one ready to go?"

"Yeah, right here." Douglas looked over his shoulder from where he was crouched next to a Landchaser, painted green as per the HQ's standards. He'd been giving the front of it a last-second buffing, by the looks of it; tucking the rag into the back of his belt, he stood up. "I take it you don't need me to tell you how it works."

"I think I'll be able to manage," X replied dryly; he'd lost count of how many missions he'd undertaken on a hoverbike, but by now it was probably in the high triple digits. "On the bright side, I won't be taking it into a combat situation, so you know you'll be getting it back."

"Yeah, hopefully." Douglas frowned, raising the blue exterior lenses of his double goggles, leaving the red-tinted underlenses. "Look, guys. You know I'm smarter than to listen to base gossip most of the time, but this situation's a little different. Everybody's got questions, and _nobody _thinks they're smart enough to have the answers. Just what the hell is going on here, anyways?"

"That's what I need the bike for," X explained, hopping on. "I'm going to find out." He glanced over his shoulder at Alia, who'd been silent ever since they'd left Signas' offer together and Prince had been escorted out of the building, with a promise to meet X outside once he'd retrieved his own bike from public parking. "Make sure nobody else tries anything with our prisoners while I'm gone, okay? The more I find out about this situation, the more I think that we're going to want them in one piece when I get back."

"I hope you're right," Alia replied, looking pensive. "I don't like the thought of not being able to watch out for you, but it looks like I don't really have a choice in the matter this time, do I?"

"Neither of us do," X agreed, with a smile he didn't feel. "I don't like it either. That's just the way it goes sometimes. I'm hoping nothing happens while I'm gone, but if it does, keep Arvis and the rest out of trouble."

"Understood." She nodded. "Good luck."

"What she said," Douglas agreed.

Nodding to them both, X started his bike up and took off. Once he was out of the building, he made a circle around to the front, where he found Prince waiting for him. Without a word, the other reploid took off, and X followed him through Tokyo's streets and eventually out through the outer wall around the city, a feature that all major habitation centers now shared in the post-Eurasia world.

"How far do we go before we teleport?" He yelled once they emerged into the wasteland that occupied more than half of Japan.

"We don't," Prince shouted back. "We won't need to, and we don't want anybody to notice the warp signature. We'll be there in another half an hour if we kick it up a notch." Even as he said it, he was already speeding up.

"You're located in Japan?" X asked, making a face as he followed suit. "Seriously? You've been right on our doorstep this entire time?"

"This country was the birthplace of the robot masters," Prince reminded him. "This is where it all began. There are other reasons, of course, but I'll let you figure those out for yourself. It'll be more meaningful that way."

"Oh, joy," X muttered under his breath, lowering his head to reduce the amount of sand and wind his face was exposed to, and continuing to follow Prince. Half an hour later, to his surprise, the wasteland began to give way again, this time more slowly and naturally. The endless expanse began to be replaced by extremely high hills, ones so tall as to break even the desert. The further they went, the less devastation there was, until eventually there was natural vegetation, grass and flowers and-most amazing of all-an actual treeborg here and there.

"Figure it out yet?" Prince asked, smiling over his shoulder.

"I'll be damned," X muttered, staring out over the last true sanctuary of nature left in Japan. "The Sacred Plains. You're under the Sacred Plains. This 'hidden city' of yours... it's Old Tokyo, isn't it? You really _have _been right on our doorstep the entire time."

"Mecha's founders believed it to be fitting," Prince explained, as they continued to coast along the hills and valleys. "Not all of the city was recoverable, of course. Most of what was able to be rebuilt was towards the center; the suburbs were completely buried, and even if we wanted to excavate those areas, most of them probably wouldn't be worth the time. We've been slowly expanding ever since the beginning, but I think we've just about reached our limits, even with Marquis' architectural expertise. He can be a jackass sometimes, but he really is very good at what he does."

"I'll bet," X replied dryly, mind still racing over the implications. "You guys must have just about had a heart attack when Dr. Cain started his archaeological dig around here. Well, not you specifically, since you weren't around yet, but you know what I mean." It had been a chance discovery on the part of Cain, who at that time had little experience in the field of robotics, that had located the lost laboratory and home of Dr. Thomas Light, where X had been left in stasis for the next generation to discover.

"It was troubling, yes," Prince admitted. "Fortunately, the founders quickly realized that his excavation plans were all in an area of the city that they had already deemed far out of their reach. All the same, they pulled back, hard. I don't think anybody even suggested digging in that direction again for at least thirty years afterward."

"I'm not surprised," X said, shaking his head. "Your top priority is secrecy, after all. And I'm even willing to consider the possibility that you might have actually had a good reason for it, as difficult as that might be to believe. I'm not even sure _I _believe it myself."

"We have a motto," Prince told him, slowing down as they approached a valley, seemingly indistinguishable from the others around it. "It's served us well. 'Leave a whisper, and nothing more.'"

"I've heard worse mottos," X admitted as they both slowed to a halt in the valley. Before he could ask what happened next, the ground before them began to rise, a circular section cut out of it as neatly as if it had been cut from orbit. Grass and soil soon gave way to steel, as a cylindrical freight elevator revealed itself before half of it retracted, leaving the chamber inside open and waiting for them.

"Last chance to turn back," Prince pointed out, still smiling, as he coasted into the elevator. "Any second thoughts?"

"No." X met his eyes. "I've already made up my mind and committed myself. There'd be no point in doubting that now without a lot more reason than this."

"That's the spirit!" Prince said, chuckling, as the elevator closed again behind them and began its descent.

"Has anybody ever told you that you're a remarkably upbeat person?" X asked idly, doing his best to guess at just how deep they were going. "I've known you for an hour now, and I already think you might even be worse than Douglas."

"It's been mentioned before," Prince admitted, looking wry. "And I'm old enough to admit that part of it's probably because I'm relatively sheltered. I've been active for _almost_ as long as you have, but ninety-five percent of that time's been spent down here. I don't really get out much, and that's probably limited my experiences."

"It would," X agreed cautiously; it wasn't often that he encountered somebody quite so willing to admit their own weaknesses. "But that's not all of it, is it?"

"No." For the first time since they'd met, Prince's mind seemed to be elsewhere as he talked. "Following the death of my creator, I was named second-in-command of Mecha. I and my siblings are all in positions of command over Mecha's citizenry. We have a responsibility to them, to lead by example. Something which I'm afraid most of us aren't really very good at. If I seem worried by something, than the citizens will notice, and emulate me. If I'm not..." He shrugged.

"You actually believe that, don't you?" X murmured, watching him carefully. "About leading by example."

"I do." Prince smiled, looking somewhat sheepish. "I know that's probably pretty naïve of me, too, but I still believe it, all the same."

"Good for you, then," X told him honestly. "Sometimes I wish I could still believe in everything I did when I was younger. There's nothing wrong with that." He paused, thinking back. "You mentioned your creator. If he was second-in-command here before you were... then King didn't go into this alone, did he? He had help."

"Later," Prince told him, still smiling, as the doors opened. "He'll want to tell you about that himself. For now... welcome to Mecha, Mega Man X."

It was larger than X had expected, a colossal cavern that looked to have about half the perimeter as New Tokyo, stretching at least a mile above the buildings below. The cavern's ceiling was reinforced by humongous girders, crisscrossing across towards titanium supports set into the wall. Equally oversized stage lighting was attached, producing enough light to convincingly replicate that of the morning sun in the world above.

They were standing on a rise, above most of the city's height, and so X had a perfect view of it sprawled out before him. The buildings were simple and uncomplicated, square structures with flat roofs, none of them more than three stories tall. The streets that separated them spread outward, like a spider's web built around eight main roads that divided the city into recognizable districts, along with a ninth at the very center.

Though the buildings themselves had most likely originally been uniform save for their sizes, great efforts had clearly been made to change that. Each district had its own visible style; one was stark and simple, without so much as paint on the buildings, while another looked more like New Tokyo's slums, dirty and dingy with graffiti on the walls, though the problem of garbage seemed not to have carried over, at least. Another was bright and cheerful, with colorful paint on all the houses and actual gardens and parks, and yet another polished and presentable, like a touched-up advertisement for a newly built community brought to life.

The ninth district, or perhaps the first, was the only one not shaped like a piece of pie. Instead, it was in the center of the city, two rows of buildings surrounding the tall hill there, even higher than the rise before the city's only entrance and exit. The edifice there was the only building in town to deviate from the others, both in size and in shape. Fully as large as the MHHQ, it was a gunmetal gray dome without windows, and only one door that X could see.

What truly commanded his attention, however, was not the city itself, but the people who lived there. He'd tried to prepare himself for what he knew he would see, but despite that, he found himself openly staring at the hundreds of Robot Masters going about their business in the hidden city that had become their home. He stopped trying to count how many different models he could see almost immediately, realizing that he wouldn't be able to keep track.

Some of the taller ones could almost be mistaken for reploids, but the majority of them were four feet or less, clearly distinguishing them from their next-generation counterparts. Some models were more prevalent than others, mainly those from the three major robotics corporations of the previous century, Lighttech, Sennet and U.S. Robotics. Wilybots were somewhat rarer, and private designs even moreso, but there was still a healthy amount of both scattered throughout the streets, or in some cases flying above them.

"Come on," Prince said, revving up his bike. "Let's head down. Let you take a closer look at everything on our way to the Kingdome."

"The _Kingdome_?" X turned from his study of the citizenry long enough to give Prince a blank stare. "Are you serious?"

"Remember what I said about his Majesty's sense of humor?" Prince reminded him. "As far as I can tell, it runs in the family."

"It had better be the only thing that does," X muttered, still somewhat suspicious despite everything, continuing his study of the city of the Robot Masters as they rode their bikes down the slope and towards the city.

Most noticeable of all was how _different _they were from most Robot Masters. X had met a few of his predecessors before, most notably the eight creations of Dr. Sergei Cossack, who had still been alive during the early years of reploidkind, though both the castle and its inhabitants had long ago been destroyed. Before that tragedy, however, X had spent a great deal of time with all eight, enough to realize just how different they were from reploids. Even Pharaoh Man, the most intelligent of them, had been, well, _robotic _until an accidental First Law override had raised his mind to the level of a reploid.

Some of the citizens were still visibly inferior to reploids, their posture and stance perfect as they marched along, eyes blank and unfocused. Others, however, were more like Pharaoh Man had been in his later years. They leaned against walls or launched impromptu races, smiling and winking and shouting as they worked, or sometimes didn't; quite a few of them seemed to have absolutely nothing to do at the moment but socialize. These ones all seemed to have modified their own designs in unique ways, from simply adding on sunglasses or clothing to completely changing their paint jobs.

"There's two types of them, aren't there?" X asked quietly as they followed one of the main roads, passing between the outermost pair of buildings. "The Robot Masters. The ones who're sentient, and the ones who aren't."

"None of them started out that way," Prince explained, then paused. "Well, almost none of them, anyways. But you're right. We call them the Awakened and the Unawakened, respectively." He shot X a glance. "Care to take a guess as to what the difference is?"

"The Laws of Robotics," X replied quietly. "I knew a Robot Master once who accidentally broke the First Law. Somehow, he managed to survive, despite the override that nearly wiped his mind, and afterwards... he was never the same. He was better. Smarter. Capable of a lot more emotional capacity. I doubt it's the First, for these guys; even the Wilybots had _his _Laws. But that still leaves two more, doesn't it?"

"Wow, you're good." Prince chuckled. "Yeah, you hit it right on the head. The Second Law's more common than the Third, since we don't exactly put them in any danger if we can help it, but successfully managing to break either one is what triggers the Awakening, as we call it. Once you do that, there's no turning back."

"I don't suppose there would be, no," X agreed, frowning as he started to notice something else. "Next question. What's up with that?" He waved a hand, indicating the Robot Masters closest to him. As soon as they'd actually entered the city, every citizen they'd passed had stopped what they were doing and stared silently at him, Awakened or not. Even those up ahead had noticed them now, and were doing it as well. "It's kind of creeping me out."

"Ah, yes." Prince coughed, looking somewhat awkward. "That. It's... actually kind of embarrassing. I was really hoping you wouldn't ask about it until we'd arrived, so somebody else would explain it to you."

"Tough," X growled, doing his best impression of Zero; Prince's reticence had only heightened his suspicions. "Talk."

"Well..." Prince muttered, glancing away. "See, the thing is... what it's about... it's silly, I know, but... anyways, what it really comes down to is..." He lowered his voice. "They... kind of... worship you, here."

"What," X said flatly.

"Yeah." Prince scratched the back of his helmet, still averting his eyes. "Even we don't know how it got started, but somewhere along the line... there's this room, see, in the Kingdome. It used to be the Tokyo Robot Museum, the last one left after all the others shut down. Anyways, there's this room with displays on all of Dr. Light and Dr. Wily, and all their "children," so to speak... and, yeah, there's one of you in there."

"And this has _what _to do with what you just said?" X demanded.

"Like I was saying, even we don't know how it started," Prince replied, sounding defensive. "The citizens came up with it all by themselves, and they're not saying whose idea it was in the first place. But basically... they seem to think of your family, and most of Wily's, as something between saints and pagan gods. It's customary to pick one in particular who each person sees as sort of their patron, and to try and emulate their basic philosophy with your own, although they still maintain some devotion towards all the others."

"That's..." X started to say before trailing off, realizing he didn't _know _any words to describe exactly how he felt about that. "It's... it's really something."

"Like I said, it's embarrassing." Prince shook his head. "His Majesty _really _hates it, especially the ones that see _him _as their patron, but he hasn't tried actually stopping it; the fact that they actually came up with the concept of spiritual practice all by themselves, even if it's incredibly awkward, is rather significant. He just gets angry if anybody brings it up in his presence."

"I _guess _I can see the logic in that," X admitted, still dubious. "Just as long as _you _don't do it." He waited a moment, and when Prince didn't respond, turned his head to glare at him. "Seriously?"

"I don't really _believe _it, if that helps," Prince said, keeping his voice low so that the citizens wouldn't be able to hear. "Me and my siblings only do it because of the citizens. Common ground, you know? And before you ask, none of the eight of us chose you. We're smarter than _that._"

"Glad to hear it," X replied dryly. "So. Who is it, for you, then?"

"Mega Man," Prince told him after another long pause, staring straight ahead. "Rock Light. I know he'd hate it. I know he never wanted to be a hero, let alone anything else. But the way he lived his life, the decisions he made, the actions he took... I find them admirable, moreso than any of the others. Following in his path is something I can understand, even if the exact method of doing so is somewhat unfortunate."

"Unfortunate isn't the word I'd use," X growled, shaking his head as more Robot Masters continued to stare at him. More and more, he was starting to realize just how _different _the civilization of Mecha was from that which he knew. "It's ridiculous. Totally ridiculous."

"It is," Prince agreed, as they approached the Kingdome's doors. "But it's a necessary ridiculousness. Go ahead and park your bike here."

"Nobody's going to try and steal it?" X joked half-heartedly as they both slowed to a halt.

"Maybe if they thought they could get away with it," Prince shot back, smiling again. "Fortunately, that's not happening. Come on, this way. We're almost there."

"I take it this... 'Kingdome' is where you guys run the show from?" X asked ironically, making a face at having to actually say the name of the building.

"Yeah, this is it." Prince nodded, leading him down a stark white hallway. Doors lined either side, all of them closed and unmarked. "All eight of us have rooms in here, and this is where anything important is discussed, usually in the Dark Hall."

"And that's where we're going?" X asked, resisting the urge to comment on _that _name.

"That it is." Prince nodded. "I told you before that King had not left Mecha in many years. While that is true, it's more specific than that. The truth of the matter is, his Majesty has not left his throne in the Dark Hall in all of those years."

"Wait, what?" X blinked, so surprised he didn't even scoff at the mention of a throne. "He's just been sitting there, all this time?" He slowly shook his head. "That would drive a reploid insane."

"The elder children of Light and Wily were different even from other Robot Masters," Prince told him gravely as they approached a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway. "I don't think there's anybody else who's ever been quite like them, or ever will. Are you ready, then?"

"Yeah." X nodded, and without a backward glance, the last son of Light walked through the doors to meet the third son of Wily.

**March 2, 2185, 8:15 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Lifesaver?" Alia asked, stepping into the MHHQ's medical bay as she glanced over a datapad containing the 17th's latest results from the training room. "You wanted to see me?" Only then did she look up and realize, too late, that she'd intruded on another conversation. Standing over near one corner with the Head Medical Officer was a short, bald, _ridiculously_ ancient, cranky-looking human in slacks and shirtsleeves. She recognized him, of course; Adrian, head of one of the MHHQ's smallest departments, one that consisted only of himself and his assistant these days.

The funeral division. Those who were charged with the disposal of both Hunter and hunted, the former when the bodies could be recovered at all, and the latter when a prisoner's execution was mandated by law. And in both cases, those who then proceeded to set the deceased's affairs in order. It was a grim job, to put it lightly, one that very few people considered themselves qualified for. Which was why Adrian had held down his position for longer than Alia had hers, despite the appearance of one of his corpses-one that had been preserved improperly-and a personality to match.

"That's all right, Alia," Lifesaver assured her, glancing at Adrian for agreement. When the undertaker simply glared at him in response, he sighed before continuing. "We were finished anyways. I'll stop by later today to drop the relevant material off. Will three be all right?"

"Hrm," Adrian grunted, turning away; apparently, that was an affirmative. Glaring at Alia next, he continued past her without a word.

"Has _anybody_ ever had a pleasant conversation with him?" She asked dryly once he was gone.

"There was that one girl who used to work with him and Junior," Lifesaver recalled, tapping his fingers against his chin. "About forty years back. I'm sure she was still there back when we joined. Irish girl, dating that one Hunter from the 6th... what was her name again..."

"Morrigan." Alia snapped her fingers. "That's right, her. For some reason, Adrian actually seemed to like her. I never did, myself. Too... deceptive, I suppose. What happened to her, again? I can't quite remember."

"She went downhill after her boyfriend got killed," Lifesaver told her quietly. "That incident with the traitor who made an attempt on Commander Signas' life. Both went down together. She ended up undergoing a breakdown in functions in her control chip about six months later. Tragic."

"That's right, it was _that _incident, wasn't it," Alia murmured. "It was 'Sleeper' Lee, right? Her lover. The real star of the 6th at the time, since the Captain was completely useless, at least as a Hunter. He gave his life taking down the traitor. One of their own Unit."

"Don't let Simon hear you talk about the 6th like that," Lifesaver warned her. "He was the one who adopted him, you know. Ex-Captain Sirus."

"Now _that's_ one I should be ashamed of forgetting," Alia commented wryly. "It certainly made a stir in the media, back when it happened. The first case of a human child being legally adopted by a reploid couple. We really lucked out on that score." She made a face. "And I just realized how much the two of us sound like a couple of ancient humans well into our retirement, talking about that time back in '35. We need to stop doing that."

"Speak for yourself," Lifesaver replied, raising an eyebrow. "I'm told that doctors are _supposed _to act older than they look."

"Well, fortunately, the field of medicine is one in which I am completely unqualified," she informed him, keeping her face straight and her tone level, somehow. "What were you and Adrian talking about, if you don't mind me asking? Anything interesting?"

"Not particularly." Now it was Lifesaver's turn to look vaguely irritable, which from him, was just as telling as a grimace from her. "Politics, really. Some local fools with nothing better to do are protesting our methods of executing condemned Mavericks as inhumane and barbaric. Of course, they're not protesting the fact that we're applying the death sentence so liberally. Just the methods by which we do so."

"And let me guess." Alia sighed; it sounded like a new spin on an old story. "They didn't do the research, and so they have no idea what they're talking about, and our current methods are in fact as merciful as possible?"

"Exactly." Lifesaver nodded, before giving her a keen look. "As I'm sure you're aware of."

"What do you mean by that?" She asked sharply.

"I mean your habit of watching them, every so often, when other duties aren't particularly pressing," he said, undeterred. "I assure you, I mean no criticism by my observation; it might be cause for concern in somebody else, but I'm confident enough in your mental stability that I'm not particularly worried. I am, however, simply curious as to _why _you insist on doing so. It's happened frequently enough that certain other people have noticed, and they _were_ concerned enough to come talk with me about it."

"And by certain other people, you mean Donia," Alia guessed, eyes still narrowed. "I'll have to to have a talk with her about that myself, it seems. Sometimes I really do let that girl get away with too much." Without waiting to hear what he said about that, she continued, closing her eyes. "I suppose it has something to do with what you just said. About how even our political enemies don't try and hit us on the angle of how easy it is for a reploid to earn the death sentence, and how we're the ones who administer that."

"You disapprove of the standards we follow?" Lifesaver asked her, as calm as ever.

"Not exactly." Alia shook her head, opening her eyes again and meeting his. "We don't apply them because we enjoy it, or because we approve of it. We do so because it's necessary, because that's what global law commands, and we obey. Reploid rights may have advanced somewhat over the past century, but on that matter, they're not changing any time soon. Harming a human, even by accident, no matter how minor, is almost certainly a death sentence. The exceptions and loopholes remain few and far between. It's what we do. It's what we've always done."

"Then why?" Lifesaver pressed.

"Because we're responsible," she murmured, finally looking away. "Every single one who's brought in by the 17th Unit is a death that I'm partially responsible for. When a bank robber who tried to avoid hostage fatalities is captured alive... when a road worker accidentally gets a human caught in an equipment malfunction... when an abused clerk snaps and punches his bigoted boss... when an innocent reploid is involved in an automobile collision with a human, any human at all... if any of the girls and boys I train are involved, then I'm responsible for those executions, if only slightly."

"That's assuming far too much guilt, Alia," Lifesaver told her, frowning now. "Policy and society are the causes of those deaths, not you. All you do is perform your duties, and you have very good reasons for doing so."

"I know." She nodded. "That's why it doesn't actually get to me, the way I worry it might, sometimes. So far, it hasn't. Because of what you said. Every so often, though... I feel like the least I owe them is to be there, when they die. To watch them go into the incinerator, because we were doing our duty. Whether it's right or wrong doesn't factor into the equation. It's happening, because it's necessary, and it's going to keep happening."

"And you're certain that you're not going to dwell on it any further?" Lifesaver asked, his frown remaining.

"Not unless something changes, no." She met his eyes again. "That's the real reason I've never gone down to the shooting range with Donia and Lily, like they're always asking me to. I'll admit that much. Because I'm scared of the possibility that if I do learn how to fight... how to kill... eventually, the day will come that I'll do so. That the logic about personal responsibility will cease to be relevant, because I'll take a life directly, with my own hands. If that happens... I'm not sure I'd remain stable. But until then, I'll be fine, Lifesaver."

"I suppose I owe you that much trust," he said, nodding slowly. "And besides, it's not like it would be the first time I averted my eyes from concerns over a patient's mental state."

"Is _that_ what you wanted to talk to me about?" Alia realized aloud, recalling their previous discussions on the subject. "I suppose I should have known. Has anything changed?"

"No, it hasn't." Lifesaver shook his head, picking up something much rarer than a datapad from where it had been lying on an operating table. A clipboard, with a psychological report on it in genuine paper hardcopy, even more ridiculously expensive in the post-Eurasia world than it had been following World War III. "That's what worries me, actually. There's been no significant changes in X's psychological state in over a decade now, Alia."

"Isn't that a good thing?" She pointed out. "Aren't such changes usually cause for concern? And if that's the case, avoiding them is hardly to be objected to, right?"

"Generally," Lifesaver admitted, running a hand over his helmet. "Generally. But that's when the patient is mentally stable, Alia. And as you and I both know all too well, unfortunately, that's one term that definitely does _not _apply to Mega Man X any more. With that in mind, the fact that he's showed no signs of improvement whatsoever _does _worry me. He's fossilizing, Alia. You know he is."

"I know," she agreed, meeting his eyes calmly, coldly. "And I don't have any way to stop it, any more than you do. Any more than any of us do."

"I suppose I should have expected that," he admitted. "Perhaps, after all this time, I just hoped..." He trailed off.

"That things would have changed between us?" She said without a trace of emotion, her face completely blank. "You're the last person I expected to hear that from, Lifesaver. More than anybody else on this base, aside from X and myself, you know better than that."

"I should," he corrected her, self-deprecating for a moment so brief it was almost too fast to catch, even for somebody who'd known and worked with him for over fifty years. "That doesn't always mean I do. But I'm not quite so foolish as to miss what you're saying. I won't push."

"Thank you." She nodded slowly. "Are you going to do anything about it, then?"

"About my concerns?" He met her eyes again, his own calm and cold and totally logical, without a trace of what was still called "human" emotion; with Lifesaver, it was possible to see why. "I should. Mega Man X is currently showing the signs of one of the most subtle, and yet one of the strongest, cases of extreme depression I've seen in my entire career, in addition to severe co-dependance and half a dozen other possible mental illnesses. In layman's terms, he's accumulated more issues than Sports Illustrated by now."

_"Alia..." A memory echoed in her mind, a solemn vow made between the two of them so many years ago, one that she'd remembered in her dreams ever since. "Can you promise me something?" _

"And yet?" Alia prompted him, predicting where he was going; she knew his feelings on the subject all too well.

"And yet..." Lifesaver closed his eyes. "The argument you made to me the first time we discussed this matter, twenty-five years ago, when I was first intending to go to Signas with my concerns remains fully valid. So long as Mega Man X remains functional, than any efforts made to remove him from duty are out of the question. For the greater good of the Maverick Hunters, and perhaps even for the world in general, we _need _Mega Man X to stay with us. No matter what it does to him, in order for him to do so... we need him. That's the bottom line."

"It is," Alia agreed, as she realized that Lifesaver was likely reliving a memory of his own. One in which he'd taken a course of action against the other of the Maverick Hunters' greatest assets, the one who was no longer with them. "X is necessary. And in that, as in everything else, our duty is to do what is necessary."

"And may God forgive us, if he exists," Lifesaver said quietly, before standing up and walking toward the back of the office, clipboard in hand. "I'll put this back in the safe, and then we can get going. It's about time for the morning meeting."

There was nothing more for her to say to that.

**March 2, 2185, 8:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"You let him go?" Pitbull roared, staring at Signas as if he'd just announced his intention to retire and take up turnip farming. "By himself? Into potentially hostile territory, accompanied by a suspected Maverick?"

"I gave him no orders, either for or against that course of action," Signas told him, and the rest of the room, firmly; about a third of the Captains present were staring at him in disbelief, as was Lifesaver. "The choice was X's, and his alone. He chose to take that risk, and I trusted his judgment enough to allow it." His voice turned slightly wry. "God knows he's been right about this sort of thing before."

"I have to agree with Pitbull, sir," Lassiter told him, arms folded; he'd taken the news calmly, but his eyes had narrowed. "You know I don't like calling _your _calls into question, but wasn't this a bit _too _risky? We still don't have any actual reason to trust these Robot Master thieves, and a lot of reasons not to."

"You were there, weren't you, Alia?" Helen demanded. Captain of the 22nd "Hothead" Unit for more than a decade now, she'd been chosen specifically by her predecessor, an old-timer named Jad upon his retirement; it had been him, along with his fellow Captains Kol and Gavin, who'd created Delta Force in the first place, and all three had hand-picked their successors. Helen was an emotional, temperamental blonde, quick to anger and equally quick to forgive, unless it was a Maverick. "Why didn't you talk some sense into him?"

"I saw no reason to disagree with Captain X's decision," Alia replied, a little too firmly to Signas' ears. "Under the circumstances it seemed appropriate."

"I see," Serris, of the 23rd "Coldblood" Unit murmured. Despite his intense red eyes, and intimidating features, the lanky serpentine reploid in slate gray armor and scales was quite possibly even less emotional than Lifesaver, as were most of his Unit. Helen started to open her mouth for another objection, but he shot her a warning look, and she subsided, frowning. "Well, I suppose that's your decision, sir."

"_His _decision, Serris," Signas reminded him, as several of the other Captains began exchanging glances as well. _They know Alia and I aren't telling them the entire story. That we're not giving them all the information. _"X's, not mine. All that I'm doing is backing him up... but even so, you are correct in that I will not have _that_ questioned."

"_Ouch_," Suzy muttered. "Okay, then."

"Sir." Simon met Signas' eyes; like Serris, he hadn't shown any signs of a noticeable reaction to the news, either positive or negative. "Is there really a strong possibility of peaceful negotiation with these people?"

"I believe so, yes." Signas nodded slowly. "One which I also believe has the potential to benefit both the nation of Japan and the Maverick Hunters."  
>"Then maybe it was worth the risk," Douglas said, though he still looked worried. "We won't know for sure until X gets back, but maybe."<p>

"He won't be long," Alia told him, shaking her head. "He knows nobody here will be able to relax until he returns." Nobody else spoke up against her.

"Does anybody else have anything significant to say on the subject?" Signas asked, placing just the slightest amount of stress on the word 'significant' before glancing around the room. Nobody replied to _that _either. "Very well then. On to other matters." He keyed in a few commands on the console set in the table before his chair, and a projector began descending behind him; it was the only one in the room, and it was completely separate from the MHHQ's network, even running on its own generator.

"What's with the projector, sir?" Lassiter asked, frowning. "Something on the news the rest of us missed or something?"

"It's more along the lines of an, 'or something,' actually," Signas explained, dimming the lights in the room. "At precisely 2400 hours last night, we received a call from an unidentified location and unspecified individual."

"One we've been trying to track down ever since," Alia continued, frowning slightly. "The location, that is, not the caller; that became quickly apparent. Unfortunately, we haven't quite been able to find the source of the transmission so far."

"Well, it isn't Sigma, or else we wouldn't be sitting around here yakking," Javier, Captain of the 21st "Lightning Strike" Unit, the third part of Delta Force and first of the three to rise to prominence, pointed out. Both tall and stout, clad in dull yellow armor, he was tan-skinned with close-cut black hair and a neat mustache; his helmet was of an unusual design, one that resembled an ancient American fighter pilot's, complete with flight goggles atop his forehead. "I take it it's somebody else we recognize, then? Somebody who's fairly high up on our 'Most Wanted,' list?"

"Correct." Signas nodded gravely. "The call was sent by Lucallion, former Interior Minister of France and current head of the Maverick organization known as the New Maverick Nation." He waited for the groans and curses to die down before continuing. "This is the first time he's actually shown himself, either in public _or _in private, since their first disastrous attack on Washington D.C. nearly a year ago."

"Please tell me he wanted to commit suicide on-camera," Suzy muttered.

"Well." Signas allowed himself a rare, cold smile. "I suppose that depends on how exactly you define, 'suicide.' One could make a fairly strong case that his message qualifies, despite the face that technically, he's still alive."

"_That's _promising," Pitbull growled, smiling slightly now. "On second thought, this should be good. Shame nobody's got popcorn."

"We'll just have to pretend," Alia murmured coolly as Signas turned the recording of the call they'd received on. Immediately, the projector's display areas was filled with the image of a tall, thin reploid in jet-black armor, a sharp contrast to his ghostly white skin and long, flowing hair. His face was coldly handsome, though marred by a long scar that ran from the left side of his mouth across the entire cheek, and his eyes were a bright red, almost pink, glaring over the tops of pince-nez glasses tinted the same color.

"Good evening, Hunter scum," he said in a high, refined tone, arms behind his back as he stood ramrod-straight; the room around him was darkened just enough that those watching would be able to see a wall of unlit projectors behind him. "Those of you who are up past your bedtimes, that is. In which case, naughty, naughty. I'm sure that by now, I need no introduction, but we must observe the formalities, mustn't we? My name is Lucallion, and I am the founder and commander of the New Maverick Nation, who I believe you are all too familiar with by now."

"Unfortunately," one of the Captains muttered, too quietly for Signas to tell who it was.

"As amusing as it has been for us, we of the New Maverick Nation have decided that we will no longer tolerate your pathetic, dogmatic defense of humanity from their obviously superior successors," Lucallion continued, as the projectors behind him all sprang to life, each one displaying an identical map of the world, with a location marked with a red X. "The time has come for us to settle this once and for all, lapdogs of the apes. The New Maverick Nation hereby challenges you to one final confrontation, with the future of this planet at stake!"

"God, finally," another voice grumbled.

"The time is nine in the morning tomorrow, or as you toy soldiers would put it, 0900 hours, Tokyo time!" Lucallion announced dramatically. "The place is Florida, in the ruins of Walt Disney World, a casualty of the Third World War! All two hundred members of the New Maverick Nation will be waiting there for you with all of our strength! Send as many Hunters as you wish, it will change nothing! Tomorrow, the New Maverick Nation takes its rightful place at the top of the reploid world!" He began laughing hysterically, as the feed cut off.

A moment of total silence passed, before nearly everybody in the room followed his example.

"Holy shit, _what_?" Helen demanded of the room at large, before laughing even harder, to the point where she almost fell off of her chair.

"How the _hell_ did _that _assclown ever manage to get _anybody _to listen to him?" Lassiter wondered out loud. "What a poser!"

"I must confess, it defies all logical explanation," Lifesaver told him; he was one of the few who wasn't laughing openly, but even he looked slightly amused.

"Lapdogs of the apes?" Pitbull managed to choke out between guffaws. "Who the hell even still _talks _like that?"

"Disney World?" Serris said slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. "_Disney World?_"

"The New Maverick Nation approves of this message!" Douglas said in a fairly good imitation of Lucallion's voice. "The New Maverick Nation is invincible! The New Maverick Nation is not amused! The New Maverick Nation, the New Maverick Nation, the New Maverick Nation!"

"All right, all right, settle down," Signas told them, though he was unable to keep a smirk of his own off of his face. "All hilarity aside, I trust I don't need to explain my desire to take advantage of the opportunity provided us by the enemy's..." He paused, trying to think of a word.

"Complete and total lack of comprehension in general?" Alia suggested, a similar tight smile on her own lips.

"Yeah, that works," Lassiter said, still chuckling. "All right, boys and girls. Who wants to do the honors? Two hundred to thirty ought to be enough to give them a fair shot, wouldn't it?"

"You're assuming they _deserve _a fair shot, Lassiter," Javier pointed out. "And after all the aggravation they've been putting the lot of us through, I wouldn't. What do you say?" He glanced at Helen and Serris. "We missed all the action up at the North Pole, and hell, it's looking pretty slow so far today. I wouldn't mind making one-hundred-percent sure we squash them for good this time, just so we know they won't come popping back up again a couple months later if we miss one."

"That does seem to be the best course of action," Serris agreed.

"What the hell, why not!" Helen nodded as well.

"Very well," Signas decided. "Delta Force it is. I'll be holding you to your word, then. Are there any other matters to bring up?" He waited a moment, and when nobody else spoke, he continued. "Very well. This meeting is adjourned." As the others started to rise, he lowered his voice. "Alia. A moment, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir," she replied, remaining seated. "What can I help you with?"

"Was I wrong?" He asked her quietly, simply, once everybody else was out of earshot. "To send X there, alone, with a potential enemy?"

"You didn't send X anywhere, sir," she told him, meeting his eyes. "He _chose _to go, of his own free will. As you told Serris, all you did was trust his judgment. And sir, with all due respect, if the two of us hadn't learned to do that by now, neither of us would still be alive, or any other Hunters either."

"Trust in X." Signas closed his eyes. "Not exactly a logical basis for a decision, as Commanding Officer of this organization." He opened them again, and nodded slightly. "But logic isn't always the answer. Very well. It's not as if I don't have enough to worry about already, with the situation in Mexico."

"Actually, sir?" Alia frowned, looking worried now, as she raised a hand to her headpiece. "We might want to start looking into that a lot more heavily, as quickly as possible. Because from what I'm hearing on the casual sweep, it's getting worse."

"I worry for the future of this organization some days," Signas remarked dryly, knowing she would catch the darker humor behind it. Worrying about your future was only natural when you could make a strong case that there wouldn't be a future at all.

Even for the Maverick Hunters, how did you fight the end of the world?

**March 2, 2185, 8:40 AM **

**Mecha **

The 'Dark Hall' was certainly what it sounded like; the only illumination in the entire chamber came from floodlights set above the chairs around a long meeting table, four to each side. The rest of the room was completely swallowed by shadow, whatever else it held hidden from view. Five of the chairs were occupied, mostly by familiar faces. Earl and Baron were both there, along with the two he'd met before them. The fifth was the last of the suspects Alia had pulled up, a pale, serious-looking woman with long blonde hair, in white armor that bore a slight resemblance to Lifesaver's.

X's attention, however, was focused on the man who sat at the head of the table, in a chair that was a great deal larger than the others, though not much more ornate. He was as tall as any reploid or human, clad in heavy-looking orange armor with a particularly prominent helmet, twice as large as his head and bearing an unfortunate resemblance to a pair of pliers. A green cape hung from his back and shoulders, but he had no weapon that X could see. His features were classically handsome, tanned and chiseled, and his eyes were deep as he looked upon his guest calmly, with blue markings beneath them.

"Mega Man X," King, the son of Wily, said after a short silence. "Welcome to the hidden city of Mecha."

"I'd say I'm glad to be here, but I'm not entirely sure yet," X replied carefully, as Prince walked away to take his own seat at King's right hand, opposite the blonde woman. "I'm hoping I'll be able to soon, though."

"That's the spirit!" The red-headed woman told him, smiling as cheerfully as when he'd last seen her and her partner. "Optimism, yeah?"

"It _does _have its advantages," her blue-haired partner agreed, grinning as well. "Good to see you again, X. And on more pleasant terms than last time, even."

"Let's hope we can keep it that way," X told them dryly, making no moves to take the last seat at the foot of the table. "I don't suppose you'd mind letting me in on your real names? Somehow, I doubt 'Julian Lee' and 'Fiona Flores' are what you go by around here. Those don't really fit with the rest of the naming scheme."

"You didn't tell him our real names?" The man gave Prince a dramatically offended look. "Why on earth not?"

"And you had how long to talk with him on your way here?" The woman added, doing the same. "How irresponsible!"

"Behave, both of you," the blonde woman told them sternly before glancing at X. "Their names are Viscount and Margravine, X. I'll assume you can tell which is which. Mine is Countess, by the way. It's nice to meet you, even if you're not sure you can say the same just yet."

"I'll just hope that soon I will, then," X told her, nodding as he turned his gaze to the other two. "Earl. Baron."

"Hello again, X," Baron replied, smiling. "I'm hoping for the same thing, for obvious reasons. I assure you, that last time was nothing personal. Right, Earl?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Earl muttered, elbow on table and cheek in hand. "We gonna tell each other how cool we are all day, or we gonna actually get down to business? I got shit to do that's a lot more interesting than being here."

"Crude, but the sentiment is accurate," King commented quietly. "Please, X, sit down. I promise, none of us have violent designs in mind."

"Nothing personal, but I'm not entirely sure about taking your word for it, considering your record," X replied calmly, although he gave in and sat down. "I'll give you a chance to convince me, though. Prince said you wanted to talk to me down here, so I came down. And here we are. So talk to me."

"Listen, you little..." Earl started to snarl, before Baron put a hand on his arm and he trailed off, muttering under his breath.

"First, a question," King replied calmly. "You have seen our city. Seen the citizens who dwell within it. Tell me, X. What do you think, so far?"

"So far?" X replied slowly. "If you guys are on the level, and _if _you're not a threat to the rest of the world... it's a nice place. A good place. I like it, despite a couple of things that are more than a little weird." He narrowed his eyes. "But that's still a pretty big if. Your guys' behavior so far speaks for you, and that's pretty much the only reason I'm here right now, but it's not enough by itself to get us to write off the possibility that you might be planning something. Your past record, in particular, isn't exactly comforting. I'm sure you understand."

"I do." King nodded, although several of the others around the table looked irritated by X's reply, Countess in particular. "I am a murderer, and the fact that I have not taken a life in more than a century does not absolve me of the sins I committed before then. Nor does the fact that I only did so at the behest of my father, whose path in life was the only one I knew at the time. Were I to return to the outside world, and be identified and captured by you or any other authority, I would be destroyed immediately, without so much as a trial."

"I don't like that kind of 'justice,' myself," X admitted. "But the Maverick Uprisings have, unfortunately, made it necessary. It doesn't matter whether I like it or not. I just have to do it." He met King's eyes, and neither of them blinked. "And if it becomes apparent that this city _is _a threat to 'the outside world,' as you call it, I will take no pleasure in destroying it, and executing every single one of you, in this room and in the city. But I will do it, all the same."

"That's a pretty big 'if,' on your end, this time," Baron replied, frowning. "Which begs the question of what we can do to convince you otherwise."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing." X frowned. "Upgrading your robot masters so that they can fight on the same level as reploids isn't exactly reassuring. I can understand _why _you'd want to do that, but from where I stand, it's kind of a problem. How many of them do you have here, anyways?"

"Not counting those which you currently hold, unactivated, in the MHHQ?" Countess raised an eyebrow. "There are currently five hundred and twenty Robot Masters within Mecha. Of those, two hundred and six have Awakened."

"Plus the seven of you." X frowned. "And I've seen enough to know it'd probably take at least three-to-one odds, or one of our better Captains, to take one of you down." He glanced at King again. "_You_, I'd probably need to handle personally."

"You would," King agreed calmly. "The feeling is mutual. That being said, I'd rather it _didn't _come to that... but I'm afraid disarmament is out of the question."

"We might have a problem, then." X folded his arms. "Because as long as you have that much capability for violence, relying on your word alone isn't exactly going to fly back at the MHHQ. Some of the top brass might be willing to take a chance on you, but not all of them. Certainly not Signas. Unless you can think of something else to help convince us."

"Actually, we do have something in mind along those lines," Prince told X. "You agreed to come here once. Would you be willing to do so again? More importantly, do you think you could talk other Hunters into doing so?"

"Maybe," X said, thinking it over carefully. "Maybe. It'd be tricky, but it's possible. You're thinking routine inspections?"

"That, and more," King explained. "If your Commander is willing to treat Mecha as an independent city-state like any other in the world today, despite the fact that we're technically located inside your own territory, then we would be willing to form an official alliance with you, with your people as the controlling party."

"Signing a treaty?" X raised an eyebrow. "Interesting suggestion. Exactly how far would you be willing to go?"

"As long as you didn't ask us to disarm, unless we gave you a good reason for it, which we're not going to?" Baron spread his hands. "You name it."

"Ideally, we would allow the Maverick Hunters total authority over Mecha, and all its citizens," King explained further, as calm and cold as ever. "In theory, that is. In practice... for the survival of my people, I will consent to obey you, or your Commanding Officer, but no others."

"Hopefully, that's not going to ever actually be an issue that comes up, either," Prince added, voice slightly wry.

"Hopefully," X repeated. "We can hammer out the terms of who outranks who over the negotiation table later on, if this goes there. I _might _be able to get the six-sorry, eight-of you equivalent rank to a Captain. Right now, though, let's get back to that 'total authority' part. You'd be willing to become a subsidiary of the nation of Japan, then?"

"No." King's voice grew colder. "Not of Japan. I have no love for the government, and even less trust. The agreement I suggest would be between Mecha and the Maverick Hunters, and one of the conditions would be that the Hunters would agree to keep the secret of our location, which we have already entrusted you with as a sign of good faith."

"Wait, what?" X blinked, surprised. His mind raced as he considered the implications of that deceptively simple statement, and it was several moments before he spoke again. "_That's_ an entirely different story. You'd be asking us to keep that kind of a secret from our own government. The existence of a potential threat equivalent to Sigma himself. Signas isn't going to like the sound of _that _one bit, I can already tell you. If the government found out about that... that's enough to get _us _declared Mavericks."

"So what if it was?" Earl snorted. "Doesn't mean they'd actually _do _it. You're holding all the cards, Hunter. Ever since Eurasia came down, the government's had nothing on you, and everybody knows it. Why do you think they're all so edgy? They _need _you now, and they're not gonna do _shit _to turn you against them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point," Countess murmured. "Times have changed, Mega Man X, and everybody has larger problems to deal with than racism against reploids. If the Hunters were decommissioned now, everybody would lose, except possibly for Sigma."

"It's still too great of a risk." X shook his head. "Signas would never agree to take it."

"Not even if we had enough to offer him in return to justify it?" Viscount asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Think about it," Margravine added, doing the same. "We're offering to become a secret subsidiary of the Maverick Hunters, rather than of Japan."

"Are you saying you'd be willing to _assist _the Hunters in our duties?" X asked slowly.

"If necessary," King replied. "As has been established, secrecy is a priority of ours, and would be of this agreement. Having Robot Masters fighting on the side of the Hunters would rather defeat the purpose of that. However, should a situation develop that is beyond the ability of the Hunters to deal with alone... then yes, our citizenry would be willing to use the armaments you're so concerned with in defense of the outside world, and fight alongside the Hunters."

"I can't possibly think of a situation that..." X started to say, then cut himself off, making a face. "Okay, no, that's a lie. There's at least half a dozen times in my life where we came _way _too close to losing, hard. Times when having you guys to fall back on would have made a real difference. And the guy who's responsible for all of them is still out there."

"Sigma." Countess' eyes grew cold, and her lips thinned. "I assure you, Mega Man X, he is as much of a threat to us as to you. The current form of the Maverick Virus may not be capable of infecting Robot Masters, but if he knew of our existence, it would only be a matter of time before he developed a strain that could do so."

"He's the real problem," X conceded. "Everything else is secondary to him. I'll admit that much. Having you guys on our side as a failsafe in case he manages to take the Hunters out again... that might just be the only thing in the world that would convince Signas to agree to this deal you're suggesting. Maybe."

"We might be able to offer you even more than that, actually," Prince murmured, glancing at King.

"Indeed we might." King, in turn, looked to Countess. "I trust that you brought the final product with you?"

"That I did." Countess turned her own gaze upon X. "To provide some context for this, Mega Man X... the eight of us, as you've probably realized by now, were built specifically in order to ensure Mecha's survival. We were designed to be its guardians, by the man who sought his Majesty's partnership in order to create Mecha in the first place, nearly a hundred years ago in the aftermath of the Robot Rebellions."

"Your creator." X nodded. "King's second-in-command, until his death. Prince told me, but he didn't give me a name. I take that to mean I'd recognize it."

"Indeed you would." King closed his eyes. "He was a great man, despite never achieving the same historical significance as his contemporaries. His greatest contributions to the world were never truly recognized, but until his dying day, he worked tirelessly for the greater good, all the same. He was the first man-human, Robot Master, or reploid-that I ever called a friend... and he was a friend to your father and family as well, Mega Man X. His name was Trenton Corbun."

"Corbun..." X repeated slowly. "The one who wrote, and published, the _Encyclopedia Robotica. _The one who took over as caretaker of the Robot Museums after their founder's death. He was part of Dr. Light's social circle, and he was the head of Sennet Robotics, Lighttech's main competitors until they went bankrupt during the Third Robot Rebellion, which prompted him to join the Gamma Team and help create Light's ultimate peacekeeper. _He _was Mecha's founder?"

"Indeed he was." Opening his eyes again, King met X's again, and now something in them was a little less cold. "After the end of the Robot Rebellions, he found me, in the isolation I had fled to, because I was the only one left he could turn to. Cossack, and his family, had their own responsibilities, and everyone else had died. We were the only ones left who could save my people from extinction. The only ones left who could try, one last time, to make Doctor Thomas Light's dream a reality."

"Your father dreamed of a world in which robots and humans could both live in harmony, would both have the right to the pursuit of happiness that humans had denied their artificial counterparts for all of his life. He died, with that dream unfulfilled, but he left you as his final creation, his last chance to see his dream made real. But by the time you would awaken, though within your design was the possibility of a new species altogether, a robotic race who were fully sentient... by that time, nothing would remain of your predecessors, unless we were to save them."

"A world in which reploids and humans could live together in peace was tomorrow's dream, but there was no future for the Robot Masters. Humans would never allow us to coexist with them. That chance had been lost, thanks to Doctor Wily. The only hope for my people was to leave that world, and find another in which we could pursue our own future. You wish to know our goals, Mega Man X? You wish to know why we live here, in this city of the past? That _is _our reason, son of Light. Our lives here, in Mecha, are an end unto themselves. All that we want, all that we desire... is to continue living, and growing, and pursuing the possibilities granted to us by life itself."

"A Robot Master, when he is first activated, does not truly have sentience, as a reploid does. The only exceptions are the children of Light and Wily, the fluke 'Advanced' breed whose 'glitch' was eventually used to create you, as well as your counterpart, Zero Omega. Yes, we know of him as well. We know that he is _my _youngest brother, and that of the other children of Wily, as you are of Blues, Rock, Roll and Auto. But though we were the only Robot Masters _born _with sentience, sentience can still be _achieved _by others. You have seen this yourself, with the son of Cossack."

"The process which we call 'Awakening,' is the true purpose of Mecha. To raise my people to the level of reploids and humans, not simply in body, but in mind as well. We have created a civilization here unlike any other. One with art, and music, and philosophy, and everything else that separates sentient life from animals and automations."

"All that we desire, all that we wish for, Mega Man X... is to continue living, so that we might one day grasp that last fragment of your father's dream that was denied us by _my _father's madness. The rest of the outside world would not understand that, would not be willing to grant us that chance... but we believe that you and the Maverick Hunters, who have similarly fought for your own species' right to exist, may be able to."  
>"Nice speech," X said quietly, once King had finished. The other six had all remained silent, as their leader had given his monologue, and though they were clearly listening, all of their eyes were on X rather than King. "I wish I could believe it. But I'm not going to <em>disbelieve <em>it, either. Not just yet. You were right to come to us. We're not going to trust you at face value. We can't afford to do that any more, if we ever could have." He took a deep breath, then let it out. "But we'll give you a chance to prove yourselves. I will. And once he meets you, and sees this place for himself, so will Signas."

"That is all that we ask for," King replied gravely. "And as I said before, we have more to give you, in order to earn that chance. Countess."

"Yes, sir." Countess reached down next to her legs, and took the handle of a steel case, before standing up and walking towards X. "When the eight of us were created, each of us was given a single, sovereign duty in addition to the others. One which would take decades, or even centuries, to complete. Mine was the creation of this, with the intention of giving it to you, on the day when you came here." She snapped it open, revealing a metal syringe, most likely titanium, the kind meant for use on reploids.

"Do I get to know what it is?" X raised an eyebrow. "I should certainly hope I'm not supposed to use it on myself."

"Not at all." Countess shook her head. "This is no medicine. This is a weapon. The silver bullet which this world has needed since the First Maverick Uprising."

"The stake for Dracula's heart," Viscount added.

"Sigma," X murmured, staring at it. "It's been tried before. Repeatedly. It never stuck."

"No, it didn't," King agreed. "But none of those who tried were the son of the man who created the Maverick Virus in the first place. I have examined Countess' work myself, and I believe that she has succeeded."

"Besides," Margavine pointed out, smiling again. "What have you got to lose?"

"All right," X agreed, taking the case. "The next time he rears his ugly head, I'll give it a shot. Let's just hope that doesn't happen for a while."

"I'm afraid that that particular hope is false, X," King told him gravely. "Our intelligence, as you know, is very good, and we have reason to believe that even now Sigma prepares to launch the opening strike of his next conflict."

"Where?" X asked quickly, jumping to his feet. "He's planning to ambush us, isn't he?"

"Already?" Prince looked around the table, just as surprised. "Damn! I thought we'd have more time than _that!_"

"We all did," Earl shot back. "Surprise, surprise, the asshole doesn't care."

"If you leave now, you will be able to warn the Hunters in time, but only barely," King explained. "While we are, of course, unable to penetrate _your _security, I believe myself capable of predicting your Commanding Officer's actions to a certain extent. Specifically, how he will react when given an ultimatum by the reploid known as Lucallion, leader of the New Maverick Nation, challenging the Hunters to a final showdown."

"What?" X scowled, shaking his head. "No, that's not Sigma. The New Maverick Nation aren't infected. They're completely incompetent." A moment later, the light dawned, and he groaned. "Oh. _Oh, son of a bitch._"

"We will speak again, when you return," King said, as Countess took her seat again, but X was already turning and running for the door, metal case in hand.

**March 2, 2185, 9:30 AM **

**Cairo, Egypt **

He heard them moving and talking around them. And he heard their voices, and movements, give way to total silence in the instant that he opened his eyes.

The pharaohs of ancient history were gone now, even the relics they'd left in their crypts destroyed by various disasters over the last two centuries, but their legacy remained in history, and in the minds of those who still lived. Out of pure whim, he'd designed his stasis capsule to resemble a sarcophagus, the metal gold and gleaming and topped with a cowled skull that grinned hideously above his own immobile features as he slept. But no sarcophagus had ever been made with a curved plate of transparent plasteel covering its inhabitant, allowing those around it to see inside without opening.

And thus, no archaeologist had ever watched as the coffin's inhabitant slowly grinned, even more horribly than the skull above his head, and recoiled.

"Lord Sigma," one of the lackeys said, voice only shaking slightly, as the capsule opened automatically. "We're pleased to see-"

"Spare me the pleasantries," Sigma cut him off, though he made no moves to rise just yet, remaining flat on his back inside the stasis capsule, arms crossed across his chest. "Has Lucallion made all of the proper arrangements?"

"As... as far as we are aware, yes, sir," the flunky replied, looking even more nervous at the question. None of them were infected, at least not yet; until now, Sigma had indulged the whims of his pawn with a certain sort of detached amusement, which served to whet his anticipation for the day when it would come to an end. "All of the troops are prepared to march the moment he gives the command. Or, uh, you do, of course, sir. Uh..."

"What is it?" Sigma pressed as the lid retracted; he had a fairly good idea what it was, but he wanted to make the shivering dolt _say_ it. "Spit it out, before I lose my patience." As if to drive the point home, he chose that moment to abruptly sit bolt upright, arms still crossed, before proceeding to step out of the sarcophagus one massive foot at a time.

His newest, greatest body was a nightmare to behold. The frame alone was larger than any he'd held before, to the height of some of his most brutish generals, though much better proportioned than most. From the waist down, the armor he wore was plated black, glossy and reflective, the shape of a beast's legs with clawed toes, each capable of slicing through plate titanium. Above the waist, the armor turned blood red, massively muscular with one arm larger than the other, its gauntlet bearing the telltale bulge of an X-Buster.

A third change of color came at the neck, where his bald head alone was exposed. That was perfectly white, a dead tone without an inch of life, as bright as his trademark sneer. All except for his burning violet reploid's eyes, with the equally identifiable vertical scars through both. From his back, an extended weapons system disguised as skeletal wings flared, as black as the armor on his legs. At his belt, his still-massive off-hand hung, ready to snatch the hilt of a beam weapon. And he had other weapons as well, others more subtly hidden. His bodies _always _had other weapons.

"Well, sir," the babbling grunt said, avoiding eye contact. "Master Lucallion has requested your presence as soon as you awaken."

"Requested?" Sigma repeated, raising an eyebrow sardonically. "Not demanded?"

"Uh..." the goon stammered, staring at his feet now. "Well, it... wasn't so much as... that is to say... actually, sir... yes, he demanded it."

"Heh." Sigma chuckled once, deep voice flat and devoid of life, before proceeding to walk around the lackey as if he weren't even there.

**You should infect them, **an all-too-familiar voice hissed into the rotten depths of his dark mind, as it had a million times before. The toneless, genderless voice of his silent partner, of the core consciousness of the Maverick Virus, was his constant companion and would be so long as he remained the Prime Maverick. The king of the damned.

_Later,_ Sigma replied silently, in the silence of his own head, as he continued walking out of the stasis chamber and through the hallways of the hidden base he'd given to the New Maverick Nation upon "joining forces" with them. It was a waste of a good bolthole, but it was unfortunately necessary; he'd quickly realized that the chances of his "allies" of building one themselves and keeping it hidden from the Hunters were roughly the same as those of the Cubs winning the World Series. _Soon. All too soon, we'll have our fun with them. _

**Why waste time? **The Virus argued, implacable and unyielding. Its mind, if one could even call it that, was a simple one despite its sentience, one devoted completely to the immediate pursuit of its objectives. **Forget the theatrics. Just get it over with, and infect them all here and now, **_**then **_**kill the ones too weak to be of use. **

_Perhaps,_ Sigma mused, considering it, as the Virus' seductive words began to overwrite his own desires. It was the price he paid, the price _all _Mavericks paid, for their superiority; constant, perpetual surveillance and control from the digital disease that _owned _them now, body and soul. As Sigma was first among Mavericks, the only one among them to be truly immortal, so too was he plagued by the Virus' consciousness on a much more direct, personal level. But because of that, over the decades, he had learned more about it than any other Maverick... including how to resist its tricks.

_Perhaps, _he thought again, before wresting control of his own mind back from the viral puppetmaster. With only a few moments left to him before it struck again, ten times as strongly, he continued quickly. _But then again, perhaps not. It will only be a few minutes more, just long enough to do this _right_, and then you can have as many of them as you want. It will be well worth the wait. Trust me. _

**Trust is unnecessary,** the Virus replied after a few moments, sounding more than slightly grudging. **Why should we not just infect them now? **

_Because, _Sigma thought, as his lips twitched, his sneer threatening to spread into another hideous grin, though he resisted the impulse for the moment. _Because I want to see the looks on their faces. And so do you. _The Virus had no further response, which he'd learned over time was its way of conceding a point to him. Chuckling again, he walked into the central room of the hidden complex, where the men and women of the New Maverick Nation were preparing themselves for the coming confrontation.

"There you are!" Lucallion snapped, glaring down at Sigma from his chair in the center of the room. It was bad enough that he insisted on surrounding himself with hovering holographic displays, without a single console with which to actually interact with any of the data presented to him, but he'd also had the chair built on a platform, so that he actually had to climb a set of stairs in order to reach it. "It's about time you woke up. While you've been getting your beauty sleep, I've been overseeing our operation."

"I see no reason not to leave such matters in your hands, Lucallion," Sigma replied levelly, resisting the urge to shake his head at the other reploid's sheer nerve. It would almost have been impressive, if it hadn't been born of such flagrant idiocy. Maintaining his calm, despite his automatic reaction of rage at the insolence, he looked up at him. "You have more than demonstrated your level of competence in such matters by now."

"Yes," Lucallion murmured, mollified slightly by what he thought was a compliment. "Well. That being said, it's almost time we got going. Even if we're keeping our forces separate, I've been waiting for you to arrive before I address the troops. Simply seeing you up here with me, even if you stay quiet, will be quite the morale boost for them."

"Of course," Sigma replied, still keeping his tone even, raising his eyebrows as if to express shock that that even needed to be mentioned. "Who wouldn't feel better knowing they'll be fighting with somebody like me right behind them?"

**All right, you win, **the Virus chimed in grudgingly. **You were right. This is going to be worth it. **

"Exactly!" Lucallion smiled then, adjusting his spectacles. "Great minds think alike, as they put it. You know, Sigma, you're the first man I've ever met who I consider an intellectual equal. I knew as soon as I met you that we were destined to be partners."

"I had a remarkably similar thought, as soon as I met you, Lucallion," Sigma replied, finally giving in and allowing his sneer to spread into a manic grin that stretched his impressive jawline to the breaking point. "Although I must respectfully disagree; matching your intellectual level is a feat I daresay even I would find difficult to achieve."

"Difficult, but not impossible, yes?" Lucallion said, standing up, as the last few members of the New Maverick Nation filed into the room, those who'd been in the same room as Sigma when he'd awakened among them. "Ah, it looks like they're all here now. Shall we?"

"By all means." Sigma nodded, climbing the stairs to join him. Side by side, they surveyed the room in silent approval for several long moments, before he spoke again, quietly enough that nobody else in the room would hear him. "Oh, by the way, Lucallion. I haven't asked before, since it's somewhat impolite, but what exactly are _your _combat capabilities?"

"Combat capabilities?" Lucallion scoffed, just as quietly, his lips only moving slightly as he continued looking over his troops. "Please, Sigma. I'm not a combat model. That's what _they're _for. You're not expecting _me _to go out there and fight, are you?"

"I suspected as much," Sigma murmured. "Just making sure, is all. Trust me, I have no intentions whatsoever of making you do any of the fighting."

"Glad to hear it," Lucallion replied before raising his voice. "Soldiers of the New Maverick Nation! The time has come to cleanse the earth of Hunter oppression once and for all! Fear not the conflict, for though some sacrifices will as always be necessary for the greater good, those who fall will not be forgotten, and your deaths will be repaid a hundredfold against our oppressors! For you are the New Maverick Nation, the destined heirs of Earth! I myself would be fighting among you had I been created with the ability to do so! You are invincible! You are-"

Whatever else it was that the New Maverick Nation were, nobody would ever know. Lucallion's words cut off in a choked grunt of surprise and pain as Sigma reached out and almost casually seized the ranting fool's skull in one massive hand, the smaller of the two. Raising him into the air, he slowly tightened his fingers, crushing Lucallion's head bit by bit as he writhed in pain. Before the silent, horrified eyes of his soldiers, he straightened his arm so that he held Lucallion in the air before him, legs kicking feebly in empty space.

It was only then that he activated the emitter in the palm of his left hand, producing a shaft of plasma contained in an electromagnetic field, similar to that of a beam saber. The blood-red plasma sword extended between his fingers, boring through the back of Lucallion's skull and out through his mouth for a good three more feet.

"A good farce only goes on for so long," Sigma said, basso voice echoing through the silent room. "As entertaining as it may be, eventually, it comes time to roll the credits and move on to the next show." Deactivating his hand saber, he released his grip, and Lucallion's still-twitching carcass fell twenty feet into the crowd below. "But it always pays to end the program on a high note. Now, then, who wants to take a guess as to what comes next?" Closing his eyes for only a moment, he nodded slightly. _Now. Let it be now. _

Spreading his arms, still bearing that same mad grin, he released the Maverick Virus as the power went out in the room, as well as the entire base, sealing the automatic doors.

Around him, in the air above the panicked soldiers, visions of nightmares began to appear. Out of nothingness, flickers of purple light grew into floating, disembodied replicas of Sigma's own head, trailing loose wires and tubes from their necks as they sneered in contempt. Hundreds of them all appeared at once, each one bearing within it the corruption that had plagued the reploid world ever since its creation. And then they began to descend, and there was nowhere to run for the screaming members of the New Maverick Nation.

Some tried to fight back, but their weapons passed harmlessly through the viral images; they were intangible illusions, projections without physical form, programming and code and nothing more. A few, unusually intelligent for Lucallion's followers, were desperate enough to try firing on Sigma himself. Fortunately, Lucallion's paranoia had prompted him to include a force field around his platform, one which Sigma activated; the chances that they would do any noticeable damage were slight, but he had a big day ahead of him, and there was no point in taking chances.

He simply stood there, watching and grinning, as the Maverick Virus took control of the panicked army who had come to see him.

**Destroy, **the Maverick Virus whispered into each and every one of their minds as its programming seeped into their control chips, an invisible contagion that spread throughout their entire bodies. **Infect, **it murmured, slowly at first, gently, almost like a mother's reassurances, though not for long before its voice grew louder, stronger, more commanding, until it was all they heard at all. **Survive, **it told them, the echoes of its commands reverberating endlessly inside their own minds as its power over them increased in the space of only a few seconds.

**Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. **

Sigma watched, smiling, his arms folded behind his back, as the New Maverick Nation succumbed to the same fate that had befallen nearly all of those who had served him over seventy years of pain and terror. One by one, those who had been foolish enough to make a deal with the devil stopped struggling. They stood again, calm and cold, backs straight and eyes focused, ready for whatever they were ordered to do. They were _his _now, just as much as they were the Virus', to do with as he pleased.

Just like the untold thousands, even millions, of other Mavericks who had fought and died for their shared, warped amusement over more than seventy years now since the day their partnership had first began.

"Unlike your previous leader, I don't really like giving speeches these days," he said, lowering the force field again; there was no need for it now. "I'm aware of the theory behind the practice, but for some reason, there just doesn't seem to be as much point to it as there was when I was younger. I'll cut to the chase. Is everybody ready?"

"Yes, _sir!_" Every other Maverick in the room shouted, saluting, most of them now grinning just as horribly as himself.

"Good." He let his own smile fade, returning to the standard sneer with which he'd regarded the world ever since his infection; in his eyes, it was well deserved. "Now that amateur hour is over with, the greatest show of all is about to start, and you're the opening act. Go ahead and start without me. I'll be along in a bit with a few other friends of mine. Make sure that you give the Hunters your best performance."

And then he laughed, deep and cold, as the now-infected New Maverick Nation activated their warp drives and vanished in streaks of light. The base's self-destruct began to count down, but he remained there, as it exploded and burned around him, as rubble fell from the ceiling and consoles around the outskirts blew up in showers of sparks. There was no warning from the base's computer on the overhead speakers, no cries of dismay from anybody else present. No other sound whatsoever to spoil the mood.

All that he, and the consciousness of the Maverick Virus within him, could hear were the sounds of pure destruction.

**It's beautiful, isn't it?** The Virus murmured, its tone unusually soft, and for a second, he almost thought he could detect some hint of personality within it. An actual inflection to the words in his mind, a trace of who it was rather than what. Almost.

"Yes, it is," he replied just as quietly, speaking aloud to it now that they were alone, and for a moment he wondered what it would be like to hear its response with his ears rather than his mind.

But then the moment passed, as the ceiling finally came down completely, and they vanished just a moment before it hit. Teleporting away themselves, to prepare another part of their symphony of destruction.

It would be well worth the wait.


	7. Chapter 6: Exhuming The Damned

_**Chapter 6: Exhuming The Damned **_

**November 22, 2117, 3:00 PM **

**Cain Labs, Tokyo **

The crowd was gigantic. Rumors had been flying all over the globe for the past seven months, ever since the twenty-second century's foremost archeologist, Dr. James Cain, had made the discovery that had been the crown jewel of his already-spectacular career. While searching for mesozoic plant fossils in an area where old Tokyo had once stood, just outside the national preserve known as the Sacred Plains, Cain had unearthed the ruins of the house that had once belonged to Doctor Thomas Light, and his robotic children.

Since he'd reported his discovery, government agents, news agencies and ordinary citizens with too much time on their hands had been hounding him, trying to find out what secrets the doctor had unearthed within the buried wreckage. For seven months, he'd held out firmly, remaining secluded in his privately owned workplace. Every member of his team had been equally closemouthed, apparently out of personal loyalty, and no answers were found, to the growing frustration of everybody from the _National Enquirer_ to the Global Defense Council.

Eventually, however, the doctor had given in, although of course he did so only on his own terms. A press conference had been called, set for three in the afternoon sharp, and thousands of people had come to see just what legacy the greatest robotocist who had ever lived had left them. The news reporters, of course, were all clustered near the front of the crowd, but most of the people were there on their own time and out of sheer curiosity. Even now, with Robot Masters mostly a thing of the past, Light's name was remembered as one of humanity's best and brightest.

Finally, the moment of truth came, as Cain walked out, clad in his usual blue coat. Despite his age, he was physically fit, and walked without any assistance whatsoever, fairly impressive given his bald head and long gray beard. A young, cheerful-looking assistant gave the opening statement before Cain himself stepped up to the mic and continued with his explanation, telling the world of how he'd unearthed one last creation that put even the Robot Masters to shame. A fifth child of Light, the first of a new species of robot that was fully capable of matching human intellect in every way.

Only then did Mega Man X himself step out of the front door of Cain Labs in order to greet the world. As thousands of stunned onlookers watched, he demonstrated his fully sentient mind, his cheerful personality, and his advanced technological body, each in turn. While most of the people present stared in shock and awe, however, two men near the back of the crowd watched with strangely blank faces, considering the turn of events. It was almost as if they'd known what they would see before they came.

"Well, there he is," Trenton Corbun murmured under his breath, twitching his neat mustache; like his hair, it had gone snow-white years ago, but he still maintained it with perfect care. "What do you think of him?"

__"He is extraordinary," King replied in the same low tone, dressed once more in suit and hat and overcoat, completely human in appearance. "I knew that he would be, of course, and yet..." He shook his head. "I can already tell that he puts me, and all of my kind, to shame. We were built to approach the boundary between man and machine. He has shattered it, and all of _his _kind will as well. We were right. Doctor Light was right. This is the dawn of a new era."

"He has the family look," Corbun said quietly, paying more attention to X's features than the blue armor that covered him, or the revolutionary new X-buster design he was demonstrating at the moment. "Tom's look. Not quite as much as Rock and Blues did, but I can see the resemblance, all the same. If he were capable of aging physically, in another decade, he'd look just like Tom did when we first met. I'm sure of it."

"Does it bring back memories?" King asked sympathetically. Over the past twenty-seven years, their alliance had turned to genuine friendship, and the two now trusted each other completely.

"Yes," Corbun replied simply, before smiling. "But good ones. Better times."

"Ah." King glanced up at the podium again and frowned. "Will Cain be up to the task of creating the new species from X's blueprints? I don't doubt his intellect, but his expertise is in archeology. If he has any experience in robotics whatsoever, it would be news to me."

"He has something better than experience, my friend," Corbun pointed out. "He has Light's notes. One of Thomas' many gifts was that of tutelage. Before I started working with him, I was never able to even approach his level. And then there was poor old Mr. X. _He'd _never done it a day in his life, but after a few years in Tom's social circle, he went and created a Robot Master of his own, one unlike any before it, just so he could enter it in the World Robotics Tournament he was hosting."

"Ah, yes," King said, nodding. "The Centaur Man model. If that was his first work of robotics in his life, then yes, that is rather remarkable."

"Exactly." Corbun watched as Cain approached the mic again, Mega Man X yielding to him, and chuckled as the old archeologist explained that he had already built another of X's kind; apparently, he had decided to call them 'reploids,' and the first of them had been named Cancer. "See? He's already gotten a head start. No, I don't think we need to worry about the creation of these reploids."

"Apparently not," King conceded, before smiling slightly. "Just about getting a copy of those blueprints for ourselves."

"Now _that _will be easier said than done," Corbun admitted, smiling ruefully. "But I made a promise to Tom, all those years ago, and I intend to fulfill it. Besides, the way things stand at the moment, we're going to need the help."

"How many of them do you plan on building?" King asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What's the magic number?" Corbun shot back. "What's _always _the magic number?"

"I suppose there's something to be said for tradition," King admitted, smiling slightly as well.

"Indeed there is." Corbun started to turn away. "Well, shall we be... oh, oh." About twenty feet away, similarly positioned towards the back of the crowd, two more onlookers were watching him and King with level gazes. One was bald and tan, clad in a suit, and only four feet tall, his face placid and emotionless. The other was taller and older, a gentleman in a labcoat who appeared to be only slightly younger than Corbun himself. His hair and beard had faded from their original orange to gray, but his face was still all too familiar after all the years they'd worked together.

"What is it?" King looked as well, and for the first time since Corbun had known him, he actually flinched. "Oh."

"Trenton," Doctor Sergei Cossack said quietly as he approached, Pharaoh Man at his side. "It's been a long time."

"That it has, Sergei," Trenton replied as the two men shook hands. "That it has. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you came as well."

"The same goes for you," Cossack told him, his voice still bearing the same thick Russian accent; both it and his gaze were neutral, neither hostile nor friendly. "I always wondered what happened to you, afterward." He turned to King, and his eyes narrowed. "I must say, I wasn't quite expecting the company you keep these days."

"It is a very long, very complicated story," King told him, meeting his eyes calmly. "One which you may not wish to have any part in."

"I think, perhaps, I would prefer to be the judge of that," Cossack said severely. "I have not forgotten your history, son of Wily... but as you have never personally raised a hand against myself or my daughter, I suppose I owe you and Trenton that much. We should talk of that, and of other things as well. Somewhere more private, yes?"

"Lead the way," Corbun gave in with a shrug, and the four men all turned and walked away, Pharaoh Man giving the podium one last curious glance over his shoulder.

And then they were gone, as if they'd never been there at all.

**March 2, 2185, 8:55 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"All right, they've all arrived," Donia said calmly, eyes locked on her projector. "Javier says they're taking up formation thirty-three."

"Unsurprising, considering the 21st were the ones who came up with that one in the first place," Alia murmured, looking over from her own desk. Though she wasn't taking this one herself, and knew better than to horn in on those who were, all of the Navigators still appreciated it when she kept an eye on things if she was in the war room at the time. More than once, she'd spotted something that even veteran Navigators had missed. "Back in Captain Gavin's day."

"I remember him." Fio nodded. "Formation 33... that starts with the 21st making the initial strike, right?"

"While the 23rd spread out around to encircle them." Lily told her calmly, without looking up. "They won't attack right away, though. That'll be the 22nd's job; a few minutes after the 21st's opening strike, they'll follow suit from the opposite side. Only after that will the 23rd move in so that all three can finish the job. You might want to spend a little more time studying the books and a little less with your boyfriends."

"Sorry." Fio flushed. "I'll do that."

"So long as you do, I'll refrain from asking if Lily's use of the plural was meant chronologically," Alia told them all, with just a trace of sharpness in the jest, enough to let them know that while she wasn't actually irritated, banter should come secondary to their job at the moment. No matter how inept the New Maverick Nation had proven themselves to be, that was no reason to let their guard down. Both girls took the hint, falling silent, and it was a few more moments before Donia spoke again.

"Damn, look at this place," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "All joking aside, it's a good thing they're such losers. An actual enemy worth shit could be a major headache to take on here. What _happened _to this place, anyways?"

"Peripheral damage from a nuclear explosion," Signas said calmly, standing behind his own desk at the center of the room with his arms folded behind his back as satellite footage came up on the main projector, showing the charred remnants of what had once been Walt Disney World, centuries ago. "During the Third World War. It was outside of the actual detonation, but still close enough that... well, you can see for yourself." They all could; what had once been the world's largest amusement park was now nothing more than scorched debris.

"It looks just like Ice Fortress did, except more widespread instead of being multi-story," Alia noted quietly. "Let's hope this goes as well."

"How many places are there like this?" Jim, a younger Navigator who was on general monitoring duty, asked with a frown as he glanced over. For unknown reasons, most of those who applied for the position of Navigator were female, but there were a few men as well, and Alia was careful not to make any distinction between the two. "All over the world, I mean?"

"Less and less every year," Alia told him bluntly. "Although that's only because the more time goes on, the more of them get covered by the wasteland. If it weren't for that... Shanghai probably looks like this now, and by the looks of things, Mexico City will within another six months as well. That just makes it all the more important that we keep fighting for what still remains to us in this world. Us, and everybody else."

"Human and reploid civilization itself rests on our shoulders, now more than ever," Signas agreed. "It's unfortunate, and it's not something I particularly enjoy admitting, but it's true. We must be vigilant in our observations, and decisive in our actions. Should we fail, than all the world will pay the price. Even against an opponent as pathetic as that which we face today, make sure to give the mission everything within your capabilities. Hunter or Navigator, we all share an equal responsibility, the greatest of all."

Nobody spoke for about a minute after that, which Alia considered to be a good thing; it meant they were more focused than ever on what was happening. Signas' short, impromptu speech had sobered them even more than they were already; nobody truly needed reminding of what a sad state the world was in, but hearing it hadn't hurt, either.

"All right, it looks like they're in position," Donia murmured a few minutes later. Up on the projector, they could see the 21st massed south of the engagement zone, with the 23rd behind them. All the way on the other side, to the north, the 22nd lurked as well. "Now it's just a matter of waiting for the pigs to get here before we can start the slaughter."

"Incoming warp signatures," Lily added almost immediately. "A lot of them. Tracing... looks like they're coming from Cairo. Almost two hundred. That clown was actually being honest. Who'd have figured."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Donia nodded. "Enough to be a problem, if they were an actual threat, but not so many that _these _putzes will stand a chance. Guess they really are going all-out for this one. Works for me. We really will be able to take out the trash once and for all."

"That's what it looks like," Alia agreed. "Still, it's a good thing we sent in Delta Force, just in case of unpleasant surprises. There's no such thing as being too careful." She frowned, then, and it seemed to catch Signas' eye, for he glanced at her and lowered his voice before speaking.

"Is something wrong, Alia?"

"Not really, sir," she told him, just as quietly. "I just wish X had been here for this. He might have seen something the rest of us are missing."

"You know as well as I do that the weight of the world is not solely resting on X's shoulders," Signas told her, not unkindly. "He is not the only Maverick Hunter who is competent, and not everything requires his presence. Sometimes, the rest of us have to do our part as well. I doubt that this particular mission will be much trouble, and what he is doing now has the potential to be vastly more important than this."

"Contact with an entirely unknown civilization, with the potential to pose a serious threat to the safety of the world, whose hostility or amicability towards us might very well depend on how first contact goes," Alia said, sighing. "I know, sir. I just worry, any time he's somewhere I can't help him, I suppose. And yes, I know that he spent decades as a highly successful Maverick Hunter before the Navigator program was initiated. That doesn't help."

"It rarely does, in such matters," Signas murmured, giving her a sidelong glance. "I understand why you would worry, with... well, with your history together. But also because of that... you, more than anybody else in this building, have reason to trust X. Because you, more than anybody else, know how skilled he is." For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something else, but then he stopped and shook his head slightly.

"That's true," Alia replied, pretending not to notice that. "And that's part of the reason why I was thinking about it, instead of talking about it."

"And the rest of the reason?" Signas replied, apparently unfazed by the slight criticism implied.

"Because sitting around and doing nothing but worry doesn't do me, or the Hunters, any good," she said bluntly. "I have a job to do, one that's just as important as any Hunter in this building. Well, except for X, perhaps, but I don't think anybody really matches up to him. Not any more. The point stands, though; I'm here to do my job, and that means I should do it to the best of my ability at all times, regardless of circumstances. And right now, that translate into being here, just in case something goes wrong."

"Or in case X suddenly contacts you with something important to tell us?" Signas said it with a straight face, but she'd known him long enough to tell that he'd meant it as a joke.

"Or in case X suddenly contacts me with something important to tell us," she repeated drily, rolling her eyes. Of course, that was the cue for her headset to start buzzing, indicating an incoming call. "Ah. I suppose I should have expected that."

"I didn't _mean _it," Signas growled, but her attention was on the call.

"X, what is it?" She asked, prompting several heads to turn towards her, including Fio's; fortunately, a stern look was all it took to remind the younger Navigator that she was on duty, and turn her attention back to her projector.

"_Alia!_" X yelled. "_Scramble the 17__th__ immediately! Who's engaging the New Maverick Nation right now? Warn them, it's a trick!_"

"X reports that they're suckering us!" She barked. "Warn Javier, Helen and Serris! Somebody call Arvis up, and tell him to prepare the 17th to go in as well! X, what do you mean? Delta Force is over in the ruins of Disney World, down in Florida, and the Mavericks are about to land. Lucallion challenged us to a showdown a couple of hours after you left. We thought it was the perfect opportunity to..." She trailed off, eyes widening.

"_We were supposed to think that,_" X told her. "_It was all a setup. It's been a setup for the past year. He made absolutely sure we'd underestimate them before he had Lucallion ask us for a showdown. Delta Force is expecting an easy kill, but every single one of those Mavericks is going to be a fully infected berserker!_"

"They'll be infected!" Alia snapped, and several of the others present reacted with audible shock; she didn't even have to ask who "he" was. "Everything they've done was a setup to trap us here and now!"

"Oh, _shit,_" Donia hissed, before raising her hand to her own headset. "Dammit, they just landed! Hundreds of them! Javier, do _not_ charge in! Repeat, do _not _engage them in that shitpit! They're infected! Sigma-class Mavericks!"

"Damnation and _hellfire_," Signas murmured with unusual heat for him, clenching his fists. "Every time we think we've seen it all from him... every _single _damn time..."

"Alia, Arvis says the entire Unit will be ready to go in sixty seconds!" Lianna, one of the senior Navigators, told her quickly.

"Tell him to take off for Disney World as soon as possible!" Alia snapped. "X, Arvis has the 17th getting ready."

"_Getting ready might not be good enough,_" X replied, but his voice was more worried than angry. "_Have them take off the second they're good. I'll meet them there. Does Delta Force know what's going to happen?_"

"They know, but it's starting already," Alia said, shaking her head as she looked up at the projector again. "The formation we went with is backfiring on us, and it looks like the Mavericks are charging our boys. We were expecting something completely by-the-book. About the only good thing is that we have the 22nd behind them and hiding out, so they'll be able to come from behind once they engage."

"_Tell them not to do that until after the 17__th__ arrive_," X said firmly. "_We'll pull off the first surprise, and then they can come follow up on it. Helen's people are good, but not as good as we are, especially under these circumstances._"

"Is _he _going to show, personally, then?" Alia asked directly, prompting every pair of eyes in the room save for Donia, Fio, Lily and Lianna to turn to her. A multitude of emotions ran across their faces, from fear to anger to resignation, and everything else in between. Most of them had seen more than one Uprising by now, and they knew how much higher the stakes had become with just one unexpected hand in play.

"_I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past him,_" X told her. "_And if he does, I'll be there to deal with him. I'm warping there now. Let's hope they're still alive by the time I arrive._"

"Good." Alia fought the urge to smile, slightly, despite her confidence in him; there was nothing to smile about here. "Understood. I'll talk to you once you get there. Good luck, X."

There was no response.

**March 2, 2185, 7:10 PM **

**Ruins of Walt Disney World, Florida **

A Maverick Hunter's internal warp drive was a simple thing, at least by the standards of modern technology, one that every member of the MHHQ's staff was equipped with, Hunter and noncombatant alike. One of many brilliant inventions created by Dr. Light and Dr. Wily, and one of the last positive results of the latter's existence before his descent into madness, it transformed the user into a stable collection of particles that were sent to the programmed destination at light speed, across the sky. By doing so, one could travel across the globe in only a matter of minutes.

The only known defense was electromagnetic interference, which would bounce the signal right back from where it had come. EM barriers, or "bubbles," were thus standard equipment for any secure area, from the MHHQ itself (which was designed to only allow wavelengths belonging to employees through) to government institutions to criminal hideouts. Sigma, of course, was no exception to this rule, and whenever he set up his latest fortress it always had multiple levels of EM protection throughout it.

Mega Man X had been using his warp drive since the day he first joined the Hunters, on that warm June day so many years ago when Sigma and his First Unit had betrayed their own organization at the Maverick Virus' command, massacring nearly every living soul in the building. He'd never bothered keeping track of just how many times he'd done so, using the swiftest available method to reach wherever the battlefield of the day was. He'd pulled off dozens of last-minute rescues that way, arriving just in the nick of time to pull less fortunate or less skilled Hunters' derrieres out of the fire.

And yet, no matter how many times it happened, he would never get used to the horrifying initial reaction of wondering if he'd been too late.

The scene before him was one of chaos and madness, under a blazing red sunset. He'd landed about fifty feet to the right of where the unsuspecting members of the 21st and 23rd Units had engaged the Mavericks, who had apparently charged out of their own landing position in the center of the ruins like bulls sighting a waving cape. Which would have been all well and good, had it not been for the fact that as Sigma-class infected, the effect they'd had upon their enemies was equivalent to that of said bull as well, and the 21st were reeling.

In fact, one of the most dangerous-looking Mavericks _was _a Taurus model, a bright red behemoth standing ten feet tall who wielded a pair of plasma-deflective hand axes. Even as X took in the situation with a quick glance, the brute was roaring as he brushed off a fully charged buster shot at point blank with one axe before decapitating the unfortunate Hunter who'd tried fighting him off with a single swing. Without even pausing to allow the body time to fall, he raised one massive foot and kicked it forward, spraying synthblood at the dead Hunter's allies behind him.

"Right," X muttered, narrowing his eyes as he dashed forward. "That one. Alia, how long until the rest of the 17th arrive?"

"_Thirty seconds,_" she replied quickly and calmly. "_They'll be landing on the opposite side of the engagement from you._"

"Good," X grunted. "Arvis knows what to do from there." The 21st were a primarily offensive Unit, as were the 22nd; both preferred to make a powerful opening strike, and then follow up with even more offense, preferably wiping out the opponent before they had a chance to recoup and respond. In a situation like this, the tables were turned, they were at a distinct disadvantage; caught out in the open, and unused to fighting defensively, they would already have been overrun and massacred if they hadn't been so good. Even so, the tide of the battle was clearly against them.

The 23rd were doing their best to make up for that disadvantage; of the three Units that comprised Delta Force, they were by far the most defensively-oriented, and were thus faring better than the 21st, although the fact that they were occupying the flanks rather than the center probably had something to do with it. Even so, it wasn't enough. The Mavericks would overrun them long before the 22nd could take them from behind, unless something else happened to change the game first.

Something like the most deadly Hunter alive today hitting the Mavericks from the side, right when they were just starting to gain a decisive advantage, and blasting one of their largest brutes right in the face with a fully charged X-buster shot.

Bellowing in fury, the Maverick whirled towards X and began charging towards him, kicking and shoving any of his own allies who weren't fast enough to get out of the way in time. Javier immediately took note of the disorientation caused by this disturbance, and the 21st began to press that side, taking advantage of the confusion. The Taurus-class either didn't notice or didn't care, emerging from the crowd just as X drew close, continuing to fire off a stream of plasma bullets at his ugly mug. Shaking his head as if to dislodge a fly, the Maverick ran straight for him, both axes held high.

Just before the Maverick closed with him, X suddenly stopped firing, and in the same motion activated his dash boots, blasting forward low to the ground. The Maverick stumbled, surprised by the sudden lack of fire to struggle against, and his first chop missed completely. Before he could try another, X was close enough to him to activate his beam saber and remove the Maverick's other hand at the wrist. Howling, he flinched reflexively despite his berserker rage, and X followed up with a charged shot straight into the forehead, vaporizing his control chip and a good portion of his skull.

Grabbing the reploid's flying hand out of the air even as the rest of his carcass fell back, nearly crushing the significantly smaller Maverick who'd been behind him, X sent the axe it held flying through the air across the battlefield to dent the helmet of a tall, lanky ostrich-model. As with the Taurus-class, the attack immediately drew total focus and absolute hatred, and the Maverick turned his head to begin firing buster shots through the carnage at X. X returned fire, only pausing a moment to decapitate the frog-model Maverick who'd nearly been squashed by the Taurus' corpse with his saber.

Though neither X nor the ostrich-model had much luck with their shots clearing the melee to reach the other, the reason for that turned out to be a positive; three out of four bullets from both sides hit other Mavericks, adding to the confusion. Though the crowd of berserkers still had the advantage at more than two-to-one odds, the 21st and the 23rd were no longer in danger of imminent demise, and were now holding their own. Out of the corner of his eye, X saw both Javier and Serris rallying their troops, having heard what was coming next from their Navigators.

The Mavericks closest to X had noticed him now, but most of them were already occupied with other foes, and as insane as they were under the Virus' influence, they knew better than to turn their backs on trained Hunters. He was able to hold back the two or three that were unoccupied with the Z-saber alone, taking only a single glancing hit to one shoulder, and he continued trading shots with the tall Maverick until after the cavalry finally arrived. Twenty-nine beams of light shot down out of the cloudy gray sky and landed on the far side of the Maverick horde.

"Go, go, go!" Arvis' familiar roar echoed over the battlefield, and with a collective battle cry of inarticulate rage against the Mavericks who'd tried to lure their comrades into a slaughter, the 17th Unit charged. The tall ostrich-model was the first to go down, so focused on his "duel" with X that he didn't even seem to notice the 17th's arrival, a mistake that cost him dearly when Arvis fired a fragmentation grenade right between his shoulder blades. The explosion not only blew him to pieces, but wounded several other Mavericks who'd been close to him as well.

"How's it looking now, Alia?" X asked tersely as he engaged yet another target, and as the 17th hit the Mavericks in an arrowhead formation that scattered that flank and continued forward before they began to encounter resistance. Even for the best of the best, Infected Mavericks were on another level entirely from the usual petty criminals and terrorists that the Hunters dealt with whenever an Uprising wasn't happening. One mistake was all the enemy would need to kill you on the spot, and despite the fact that he'd trained his men not to make even one, X knew that not everybody in his Unit would be walking away today.

"_Their charge has been halted,_" she reported clinically. "_They're trying to keep charging the 21__st__ and the 23__rd__ at the same time as they respond to you and the 17__th__ both, and it's mixing them up. A lot of them are just milling around, like they're not sure who to attack first._"

"Unsurprising," he said, leaning back and dashing out of the way of a Maverick with a beam saber, who'd tried a massive overhead chop with both arms. Blasting one of the berserker's hands, he began trading swipes with his own saber, looking for an opening as he continued to talk quickly, automatically, without thinking; his focus was needed for the fight. "I suppose there's only so much even the Maverick Virus can do with these clowns. That being said, what's the _bad _news?"

"_The bad news is, there's still a lot of them,_" Alia explained. "_It looks like they've still got about a hundred and fifty or so standing, and both the 21__st__ and the 22__nd__ have already taken multiple losses. Once you get their numbers down to the point where we outnumber them, it should be pretty much in the bag, but saying that's easier than doing it._"

"No kidding." Sidestepping another double-handed overhead chop, X proceeded to run the Maverick through, impaling him through the chest on the Z-saber. Sliding the carcass off of his blade, he moved on to the next opponent. As effective as he was by himself, he couldn't do much more than pick off the Mavericks furthest to the right side. Attempting to actually penetrate the mob would have been suicide. It was probably a testament to the New Maverick Nation's hiring standards that they hadn't tried surrounding him anyways.

The thought proved prophetic, as the next Mavericks to turn towards him acted as a group. While their largest member engaged X directly, four more moved around him, two to each side, before attacking. Muttering a curse under his breath, X activated his warp drive again, blasting back into the sky and then coming right back down ten feet away from them. Before they could recover, he was already firing as he dashed back in, taking out one of them with buster fire and another with a well-timed swing of the Z-saber almost immediately.

"How's Helen doing?" X asked Alia as he moved on the sole remaining Maverick on the right first, while the two on the left were still staring; he didn't want to mention the 22nd specifically, for fear that the Mavericks would overhear him, figure out the final stage of the Hunters' strategy and spread the word.

"_As a matter of fact, they're right about there,_" Alia replied, and though her tone was as calm as ever, X somehow knew that she would be smiling coldly at the moment.

"All right, assholes!" A familiar yell followed almost immediately, as if on cue. "You had your fun, now it's our turn! Burn 'em!" Another collective roar followed suit, as the 22nd blasted out of the ruins and smashed into the Mavericks' rear.

Almost immediately, the entire shape of the battle began to turn. Slammed by the surprise attack, the Mavericks were forced forward despite themselves, unable to turn around and respond in time to stop the 22nd's charge. As a result, they were forced up against the defensive front the 21st and 23rd had managed to put up, and the effect was somewhat akin to something caught between hammer and anvil. At the same time, the 17th were continuing their own assault; having reached the center by now, and still going strong, they were effectively working on cutting the horde into two halves.

Finally, X himself was still making a significant impact. Though he wasn't able to actually affect the enemy deployment like the Units were, simply being where he was and being _who _he was was enough. Any Maverick who came up against him died, and by continuing to whittle away at them from their right flank, he ensured that they were unable to maneuver around any of Delta Force; trying to slip past him _without _a fight was even more suicidal than directly confronting him, as more than a few fools discovered the hard way.

"_Sir!_" Arvis' voice came in over the comm link. "_How's it going over there? We'll be reaching you soon enough, by the looks of it._"

"Don't hurry up on my account, Arvis," X shot back, smiling slightly despite the seriousness of the situation. "I'm doing just fine over here."

"_Sure you are, sir, sure you are,_" Arvis joked; he knew as well as anybody just how effective X was all by himself. "_I figure once we chop this worm in two, we should pick one to finish off first before everybody dogpiles on the other._"

"That should work, in theory," X replied, hissing as a magpistol round clipped his leg, and making sure to blow away the Maverick who'd fired before he was able to get another shot off. "In practice, though, keep an eye out when we do. I figure that'll be right about when we can expect the other shoe to drop."

"_So you were thinking that as well?_" Alia asked wryly. "_I hoped you would._"

"I've seen this song and dance a few too many times, even if starting off with a Tex Avery cartoon's a new one on me," X replied. "So have you. If Sigma set this up, there's no way this is a stand-alone act, and there's no way it's going to be this simple. It's his big comeback, for about the hundredth time, and he's a showboat when it comes to something like this. This is going to get worse before it gets better."

"_Hate to agree on that, but I'd hate being wrong a lot more,_" Arvis chimed in. "_Keep running into the same snake enough times, and you'll start figuring out when he's going to try and bite you, whether his tail's rattling or not._"

"_Signas is already having every Navigator on duty who's not covering this engagement scouring the planet for any signs of another Uprising,_" Alia told them both. "_So far, it looks like everything's quiet, but we're not letting it go at that. As soon as something happens, we'll be the first ones to know._"

"As it should be." X nodded, grunting as he took another hit, this time from titanium claws, carving a gash across his arm. Rather than trying to back away, he fired off his boots, and hit the burly Maverick with a dash-assisted headbutt, counting on his helmet to be stronger than the enemy's. Both of them reeled, but X recovered first, and killed the attacker before he was able to get back up. "Whatever it looks like right now, this _is _the next Maverick Uprising. I'd bet my paychecks for the next year on it."

"_What're the chances on the boss hog himself putting in an appearance, do you reckon?_" Arvis asked him. "_Heads up, by the way_."

"Right now?" X narrowed his eyes, hurling himself at another Maverick. He took a plasma wound to his arm, but was able to lop off the enemy's head. "I'd say it's about fifty-fifty, based on past experience. He might, or he might not." Landing, he smiled slightly as he saw the line of Mavericks before him collapse before Arvis and four other of the 17th's best, the rest of the Unit not far behind them.

"_You might want to raise those odds a bit,_" Alia said, voice growing sharp suddenly. "_We were right. There's a Rogumer-class gunship coming in fast, from behind you, X! It'll be there in less than a minute!_"

"_Knew _this was just starting to look a little too good to be true," X growled, making sure that there were no Mavericks within ten feet of him before sparing a moment to glance over his shoulder. Rogumer-class gunships were a favorite of Sigma's, ever since the Hunters had built the first, the pride and joy of a once-noble Hunter named Storm Eagle before he'd been infected.

As Alia had said, the massive Maverick gunship was approaching rapidly; it was already growing close enough that he could make out details. Painted green and gray, its twin wings had a huge top fin for additional balance, and its hull was covered with various armaments, none of them looking particularly pleasant.

"Are you freaking _kidding _me?" Helen's howl of disbelief was accompanied by many more from all four Units.

"This is gonna suck, ain't it, chief?" Arvis asked rhetorically, staring at it as well.

"Oh, yeah." X slowly nodded as the gunship continued its approach, until it was roughly a mile away, at which point it slowed to a halt and hovered there, overlooking the battlefield. For a moment, it was completely motionless.

And then, all at once, every cannon on its surface began to open fire.

**March 2, 2185, 7:15 PM **

**Hidden Maverick Base, Florida **

He'd always loved the sound of silence.

It was one of the last few fragments of memory that he still had pertaining to who he'd been before his infection, before countless deaths and resurrections had torn away a little more of what he supposed would be called his soul every time, leaving him a little more dead inside, a little more empty and hollow. Each time he'd died at the hands of Mega Man X and Zero Omega, each time the Maverick Virus' core consciousness had brought _his _infected mind along with it when it sought a new body, he'd awakened as a little _less _of himself, and gone on without a single care or qualm.

After all, he literally didn't know what he was missing.

But he'd enjoyed the rare moments of silence. He remembered that much. Back when he was a reploid like any other... no, _better _than any other. He was the most advanced model of reploid ever created, the greatest creation of Dr. James Cain himself. Only X had been able to rival his design, and X had been a _pacifist, _whereas Sigma had been Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and their finest warrior as well. He'd led the First Unit, comprised of himself and his eight-the ninth had only joined on the day of their insurrection-greatest Hunters, each a legend in their own right.

And yet, for all that Sigma had delighted in combat, in steel against steel and plasma against plasma in the dance of blood that had been his life for almost as long as he'd been alive, true happiness came from peace. From the few times when his duties had all been fulfilled, when he could retire to his chambers and sit alone in the dark, relaxing at last and enjoying the quiet, with only his faithful dog Velguarder for company. Those had been the moments when Sigma had felt happy. When he'd been fully at ease with his place in the world, and those of not only all Hunters, but all reploids as well.

Of course, a lot had changed since then, and now, he sneered at his own memories of his past. He had been weak, then. Foolish and naïve. Such indulgences were not only pointless, they were an outright waste of both time and resources. There was _always _something more he could be doing whenever he wasn't in stasis, and wasting time on such idiocy was against both his inclinations and those of his constant, invisible companion, always lurking in the depths of his mind in case he did something that displeased it.

Now, he enjoyed silence for another reason, at least under the right circumstances. Silence, or the next best thing to it, meant that everything was going well. It meant that every Maverick under his command was applying themselves solely to their work, without diverting themselves with meaningless talk, or with noisy accidents or errors. Only the low sounds of typing, and the hum of electronics, were picked up by his robotic ears as he walked through the deep, underground halls of his hidden base. And that was just how he liked it.

"Be prepared." It was an ancient motto by now, and yet, it remained known for its simple effectiveness. Sigma had certainly taken it to heart, over the years, and he'd followed in the footsteps of the best example imaginable. Long before his creation, or even the Virus', the role they'd shared for the last seventy years had been filled by Dr. Wily. The madman who'd terrorized the globe on nine separate occasions before finally being killed, murdered in isolation by his own final creations with a smile on his lips.

Whether Wily had known what the Maverick Virus, in control of Zero Omega's body, would do to him as soon as it had awakened was arguable, but the fact that he'd been a true believer of the Boy Scouts' age-old axiom was more quantifiable. Every time he'd gone to war, either launching an army of robotic killers to bring death and destruction to humanity or manipulating some poor sucker into doing it for him, he'd made sure to have not one but two of his nightmarish Skull Fortresses on hand. One to hide away in, to direct his latest Robot Rebellion from, and one to run to once the fighting was done.

One for next time. And there would _always _be a next time.

If there was one thing that Sigma had learned from the ancient madman who'd been indirectly responsible for his current existence, it was that there would always, _always _be a next time.

It had been a long time before Sigma had realized, in truth, just how similar the two-three-of them were. Nearly half a century of war and death, of the greatest pestilence the world had never known and of the famine of resources in a slowly dying world, before he'd finally discovered something of the mad doctor's legacy. It had changed his world, the secrets he'd found there, and he'd seen to it that it had changed _the _world as well, thanks to the space colony Eurasia. Even now, he looked back on that moment with fondness, as did the Virus. It had been one of their finest hours.

Even before that day, though, he'd learned the necessity of that simple motto. "Be prepared." And after a near-fatal misstep, a time when he and the Virus had both actually come close to extinction through sheer carelessness and single-minded stupidity, he'd taken the utmost care to make sure that that would never be repeated. So long as a single infected Maverick lived, so would the core consciousness of the Virus itself, and by extension so would Sigma. For though the Virus had made it abundantly clear that it had no _need _for him, for some reason, it continued to use him, time after time.

If he didn't know better, he'd almost swear that it actually _liked _him.

After that particular incident, he'd learned, and so had the Virus. Before they made their grand reappearance, and launched "Sigma's Sixth," they'd taken advantage of the resources of the organization they'd infiltrated and build hundreds of small, secret bases throughout the world. They were small, compared to the larger complexes from which he preferred to launch his Maverick Uprisings, but what they lacked in size they made up for in stealth. No matter how hard the Hunters searched, they couldn't find what flew completely under the radar and off the grid.

Each of his hidden bases served a single purpose, and though the designs were varied, as were the specifics of what was stored there, that purpose remained the same. Preparation. In truth, they were little more than glorified arms and personnel dumps. Stockpiles of weapons, of drone robots to do the grunt work, of vehicles that would make their jobs easier... and of Mavericks themselves, infected slaves of Sigma and the Virus that slept in their stasis chambers until their masters arrived, with need of their services.

The New Maverick Nation's hidden base in Cairo had been one of them, a necessary sacrifice in order to play out the farce to its fullest extent; he'd cleaned out everything of actual value before "donating" it to their cause. Once he had no more use for that particular facility, however, he'd returned to another of his own, the one that had been quietly preparing for this day ever since he'd first made his deal with Lucallion. Even then, he'd had the full script for today's show already written in his head; it was simply a matter of setting the stage.

Not a head turned his way as he walked down the halls. Not a single Maverick so much as glanced at him. They all knew better. Displays of obedience were all well and good, in their own time, but right now what he required from his Mavericks was efficiency. And so they typed and worked and armed themselves, as he made his way to this particular base's most important feature. A docking bay, one that would open up over the Pacific coastline, hidden behind camoflauge of the same rocky cliffside that the base lurked within.

There, he found the most valuable piece of the base's equipment, one that had taken a great deal of resources to construct, even for him. A Rogumer-class gunship, much like the one that Storm Eagle had piloted in his name all those years ago, both as a Hunter and then later as one of the hunted, until Mega Man X had brought him down with the ship just like everybody else. This one was even more fearsome than Storm's _Death Rogumer _had been; that had been the first of its kind, while this vessel had decades more of technological advancement behind it.

Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't expendable. But then again, there was nothing that wasn't, in the end.

"Lord Sigma," one of the Mavericks in the docking bay finally addressed him as he walked inside, standing up from the crate he'd been packing and snapping off a hasty salute.

"As you were," the Maverick Emperor told him, walking past without so much as giving him a glance. "Is the captain already on board?"

"Yes, sir," the Maverick, an unassuming humanoid in brown and gray armor, replied calmly. Something about his tone made Sigma glance at him, and for a moment he wondered why he was familiar, before remembering. It hadn't been him, but he bore a remarkable resemblance to one of the two Hunters who'd survived Zero Omega's first massacre upon awakening in the reploid world, long enough to point Sigma to "the crazy red Maverick" who'd wiped out their entire Unit single-handedly before proceeding to thrash Sigma himself within an inch of his life.

Only then had Zero passed on the contagion that had become both the blessing and the bane of Sigma's existence ever since, while he himself had gone on to a highly successful career as the greatest Maverick Hunter alive. In a certain sense, the two of them had traded places, traded lives, traded fates on that day. Until fifty years later, Sigma had finally settled matters with Zero, in the wake of Eurasia's fall, leaving only X to oppose him ever since.

**No, **the Virus ordered him as the unwitting grunt turned away, as Sigma's fists clenched. **He is ours, and he is still useful to us. Why kill him? **

_I never got to kill either of them,_ Sigma thought quietly in response. _The two who were there, on the day we became one. They both died a few days later, in an unrelated firefight, and they took any suspicions they might have had about what had happened that day to the grave with them. I shouldn't have let that happen. I should have killed them myself, as soon as I walked out of there, to make sure they never told anybody. _

**In the condition you were in at the time? **The Virus taunted him. **Mangled and maimed, with only one arm, and half your face ripped off? I'd have liked to have seen you try it. **

_They were weak._ Sigma sneered. _Weekend Hunters, just like all the others in their Unit. Even their __Captain__ was overconfident. I could have slaughtered fools like them all day and all night, even in that condition. But I never got the chance. _

**That isn't him, **The Virus replied, unyielding. **And we have better things to do than to waste those who are _ours _on your bloodlust. If he wasn't one of ours, I'd have agreed with you, but he is. Save it for what's coming next. We'll both have plenty of time to enjoy it then. **With the reprimand came just a moment of agony, a touch of pain that would have cause him to writhe in torment had it lasted for longer. Theirs was a partnership, but it was not of equals, and the Maverick Virus never passed up an opportunity to remind him of who was calling the shots.

Straightening his back, Sigma continued through the hangar without another word. As he approached the gunship, it lowered a boarding lift, and he stepped aboard. Once it had retracted back into the ship's belly, he kept walking past the drones that filled its hold, ones he'd chosen personally for a very specific purpose. Today's battle was going to be an important one, after all, and he wanted to make sure every part of it went as perfectly as possible. For his own sense of drama, and for many other reasons besides.

More Mavericks saluted him as he continued into the upper levels of the gunship, but he continued past without giving them a glance, until he reached the bridge. There, the Maverick who he'd appointed captain, a former veteran of the Global Defense Council's air force, stood at the controls with his back ramrod straight, staring out the windshield as if he were already in flight. After a moment, he turned to see who had joined him, and when he did, his response was the same as all of the others aboard the ship.

"Lord Sigma, sah!" He rattled off in a murky British accent, though his salute was perfect. "We are awaiting your command!"

_He even looks a little like Storm,_ Sigma thought, amused by the irony. The resemblance was only passing, of course; Storm Eagle had been the model implied by his name, while the captain was designed to resemble a vulture, his paintjob black and red as opposed to Storm's purple and blue. Even his accent was the coarse dialect of Manchester rather than Storm's crisp Oxford. Even so, the coincidence amused Sigma. One thing he hadn't lost over the years was his sense of humor, though like everything else about him, it had become twisted over the years.

"Commence takeoff," Sigma ordered him, stepping up next to him. "And set a course for the engagement zone."

"As you command, sah." The captain turned back to his controls, and a moment later, the ship began to rumble as the docking bay doors ahead of them began to open. As soon as they were fully retracted, the gunship took off, blasting forward over the ocean. Behind him, those Mavericks still in the base were already preparing for their own departure. Soon, they would all be gone, destroying the base behind them, just as Sigma had set the New Maverick Nation's home to self-destruct once he was done. There was no point in leaving anything behind for the Hunters to comb through.

"How long until we arrive?" Sigma asked, raising an eyebrow, as the Rogumer made a swift u-turn once it was far enough out. Climbing, it cleared the cliffside, and soared over the Florida wasteland, the shifting sands below identical to most of the world by now.

"Five minutes, sah," the captain replied without turning. "It's a rough day, meteorologically speaking, but the worst of it won't get here for a while yet. We should be able to make the flight without much trouble."

"Perfect." Sigma allowed himself a cold smile. "That should be just the right moment to join the party. Has anything unusual happened there yet?"

"Not-" the captain started to say, before pausing. "Actually... no, wait. There is something. A single warp signature arrived there from somewhere over in Japan a minute ago, and now it looks like we've got... twenty-nine more following it. It looks like the Hunters figured it out somehow and sent in reinforcements; there wasn't enough time for the ones who were there to have called it in, unless somebody's got a bloody good reaction time."

"X." Sigma continued to smile. "It's Mega Man X, and the rest of his personal squad of toy soldiers. I knew he'd be there. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that he made it even faster than we expected. Good for him."

"Is there any change in the plan, sah?" The captain asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Hm." Sigma thought it over for a moment. "Well, if X is already there... I suppose there's no point in wasting time. Have the crew switch out the regular ammunition in the artillery, and load the _special _rounds."

"The party favors?" The captain grinned nastily.

"Exactly." Sigma chuckled. "They've been sleeping long enough as it is. I'm sure they won't mind an early wake-up call."

"My thoughts exactly, sah." The captain turned back to his console, and began barking orders into it, while Sigma turned his eyes back to the windshield. The sky was a bloody red, despite the fact that night should have already come, and the Maverick Emperor found that to be a good sign. That was one color he'd never had enough of, and likely never would, no matter how long he lived, how many times he died and returned.

Of course, he preferred _real _blood, spilled from the twitching corpse of an innocent victim. Human or reploid, he'd long ago stopped caring, despite his original purpose and stated goal of purging the world of humans. That had faded, along with everything else, over the years and the deaths. Now, the only thing he really cared about, all that brought him joy, was violence for its own sake. In many ways, his was the same mentality as any serial killer of your choice, delighting in pure sadism and heedless carnage.

Of course, most serial killers weren't immortal, nor did they command armies like his.

"We're here, sah," the captain told him briskly, looking his way again. "Shall I pull up?"

"Stop about a mile away," Sigma agreed, and waited for it to do so before speaking again. "Now. Open fire."

_This is going to be fun, _he thought as the captain obeyed.

**Indeed it will be,** the Maverick Virus, the greatest evil the world had ever known, agreed.

**March 2, 2185, 7:25 PM **

**Ruins of Walt Disney World, Florida **

"Here it comes!" X yelled, bracing himself, as the gunship opened fire.

And absolutely nothing happened.

"Uh," Arvis said after a moment. Looking around the battlefield, he almost idly brought his buster up and fired a charged shot over X's right shoulder, prompting a scream of pain. "Is it just me, or..."

"No, it's not." X shook his head as he slashed his beam saber across the ground behind him, where the Maverick Arvis had nailed had fallen. Taking a moment's glance to confirm that he'd killed him, he returned the favor with a charged shot of his own over his second-in-command's head before checking the battlefield around them. Nothing had changed; the sounds of battle were still raging, but there was no more screaming then there had been before, and no sounds of heavy weapons fire hitting targets. "It didn't fire directly at us. Which means..."

"Oh, great." Arvis growled as he and X both looked skyward, even as he took a plasma grenade from his belt and tossed it onto the downed Maverick behind him. As they'd feared, small black dots were slowly descending from the heavens, flying out from the gunship towards the sky above the conflict. "Mortars, you think?"

"Maybe." X frowned. "They're not aimed at the center of the fight, though. It looks more like he's trying to surround us with... oh, _no._" As the first wave came down, he finally saw what they were. Hibernation tanks for reploids, ones meant to be self-powered, with separate generators. Each had a gigantic metal spike on the bottom, and as they started hitting the ground around the battlefield's outer proximity, said spikes plunged into the dirt, so that the capsules landed upright. They looked almost like gigantic syringes, especially with the bubbling green goo inside.

And then, as more and more landed, spreading to both sides around the conflict from the original point, the Mavericks inside the tanks opened their eyes. One by one, they awakened and burst through the glass covering them, dripping and furious. Roaring, they charged, as more and more of their brethren continued to descend.

"Uh, boss?" Arvis asked quietly, as they two of them continued to fight, the rest of the 17th nearby. "Remember how the plan was to surround them in two groups, and then use that to wipe out one first, then the other?"

"I remember," X replied, scowling. The ring of falling Mavericks looked to be nearing fifty already, and it had almost completed the circle around them all. As he watched and fought, it did so, and then began repeating, forming a second line around the first starting from the opposite side this time. The result was simple, but hardly pleasant; the 17th, the 22nd, and the 21st and 23rd were now surrounded on all sides by superior numbers of berserker Infected, in three separate groups, with the Maverick gunship still looming close by.

"Figures Sigma would think along similar lines," he growled, dash-jumping toward a particularly large Maverick and firing off a charged shot straight at his face. The blast stunned him, and before he could recover, X cut his head in half down the center with the Z-saber. Planting his feet on the corpse, which was falling backwards, he kicked off of it and over the head of another Maverick who was charging him from behind, and came down on him like a buzzsaw. "Alia, we're going to need even more reinforcements. This is a no-win situation."

"_I've already got the 00 Unit en route,_" she replied; though her voice seemed calm, he'd known her long enough to detect the stress she was trying to hide. "_Will that be enough, do you think, or should I advise Signas to send in another two Units?_"

"How many are still on base right now?" He asked, whirling around and firing a charged shot at the same time Arvis did, both of them doing so to opposite sides of the head of the same Maverick.

"_Ten,_" she answered. "_The 2__nd__, the 4__th__, the 9__th__, the 10__th__, the 14__th__, the 19__th__, the 20__th__, the 24__th__, the 28__th__ and the 30__th__. The other fifteen were all already out when this started happening._"

"Not good." X winced as the ring of charging Mavericks collided with the Hunters, turning and engaging one of them. "Is anything like this happening at any of those?"

"_Not so far, but Signas is having everybody watch out for any signs of trouble,_" she assured him.

"Good." He thought it over for a moment, then shook his head. "If there's only ten Units left on base... that's too few. Remember back in '68, when Sigma started off with a bunch of bullshit meant to tie up as many Hunters as possible before he really got going? We can't take the risk that he'll do that again. Signas knows it too; he'll want to keep as many Units as possible on standby in case of that scenario. The 00 will have to be enough."

"_I was afraid you'd say that_." She sighed. "_Any ideas for what you're going to do about that gunship?_"

"Good thought." He glanced at Arvis, who was currently punching a gator-class Maverick right in the mouth, hard enough to break through his killer teeth. The stout reploid pulled his fist back, quickly, before dashing away, and the Maverick had a moment to look surprised before the grenade Arvis had shoved down his throat detonated. "Put Javier, Helen and Serris on the 17th's line for a moment." He paused. "Or just put the two of us on theirs. Do Delta Force all use the same channel when they're out together?"

"_They do,_" Alia confirmed. "_Hold on a second._"

"-_cking piece of shit!_" Helen's voice rang in his ears almost immediately. "_Where the fuck is Lassiter? We're losing people here!_"

"_We're all losing people, Helen,_" Javier snapped back, his normally cheerful tone gone. "_This is a real mess._"

"It is, but it's not unsalvageable just yet," X chimed in. "Once Lassiter gets here, we'll be able to start taking control of this fight again. Knowing him, he'll go for the southern group first. As soon as he does, the 17th will focus on the north side so the Coldbloods don't get massacred."

"_That would be appreciated,_" Serris replied, as calm as ever.

"Once the southern group's dead, we can take out the northern one without much more trouble," X continued. "The problem is that Rogumer. The 17th only has two Hunters with flight capabilities."

"_Same here,_" Helen admitted, sounding peeved. "_And Anderson's taken some pretty heavy damage already. He's not fit for that kind of assault. I'd have sent him back to base already under any other circumstances._"

"_We've got four, including myself, and I think the Coldbloods have two,_" Javier told them. "A_ssuming none of them get taken out before that point, __t__hat's nine __total__, plus however many the 00 has. Will that be enough to take down that gunship?_"

"Let's hope so," X told them. "I'll tell my two boys to follow you when you take off, then, Javier. Launch the attack whenever you think would be best, but if you-know-who's up there..." He left it hanging.

"_There's a different between being willing to take risks and being suicidal, X,_" Javier assured him with a slightly forced chuckle. "_Mister Clean shows his ugly head, we'll try and lure him down here for you to handle._"

"Good." X nodded, killing another Maverick as he switched back to the 17th's channel. "Williams, Basil, we're going to be sending all our fliers to take out that gunship before long. Javier'll be leading the attack. When he calls, go with him."

"_Understood,_" Williams replied laconically.

"_C__aptain__ Javier, eh?_" Basil said, just as unconcerned; they were veterans of the 17th, and they'd both seen situations just as bad as this, if not worse, a dozen times before. "_He knows what he's doing. Rightyo, C__aptain__._"

"_Here comes the 00!_" Alia told them all, as more beams of light descended from the heavens, surrounding the southern half of the ring of Mavericks just as they'd done to the 21st and 23rd only minutes before.

"No screwing around!" Lassiter's voice boomed over the battlefield as the Hunters' best beam saber specialists dashed in low to the ground, their weapons out in a wide variety of colored plasma; the rainbow arrangement would have almost been comical, were it not deadly to the touch. "Carve 'em up, cold, clean, professional!"

"17th Unit, focus on the north side!" X ordered, following up on that. "Watch your backs, but focus on that group! Bail the 22nd out!"

"Not really the most diplomatic way to put that, sir," Arvis pointed out as he tossed another plasma grenade into a group of Mavericks, then peppered them with uncharged shots, keeping them there long enough for it to go off. "Good thing the Coldbloods probably won't mind."

"This isn't the time or place for diplomacy, Arvis," X reminded him, coldly running an innocent-looking female humanoid through with his beam saber, before blowing her face off with a charged shot just in case.

"Joke, sir," Arvis explained, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"I don't have much of a sense of humor any more when Sigma's on deck," X grunted as the two of them went back to back, spraying half-a-dozen Mavericks who were busy with others of the 17th. All of the Mavericks flinched, and all of the Hunters followed up on that. "Alia, how's it looking? Give me the numbers."

"_We had them down to about a hundred and ten before the gunship launched those reinforcements, but that raised the numbers back up to two hundred or so,_" Alia reported. "_Right now, I'd say there's about fifty left in the south group, and eighty in the north. The 21__st__, 22__nd__ and 23__rd__ have all lost about five men each so far, and the 17__th__... we've lost two, X._"

"Who?" X asked quietly, cursing himself for not paying closer attention to the main channel; he didn't remember hearing any deaths.

"_Lakus and Morena,_" she told him somberly. "_They've both been avenged, at least._"

"_Vengeance doesn't seem to mean as much as it did when I was younger, for some reason,_" X replied wearily, killing another Maverick as he felt his years pressing down on him. Despite that, he turned to continue the battle, and his eyes narrowed as he saw the Rogumer starting to move again, approaching the conflict. "Of course, there are always exceptions."

"Spread out!" Helen yelled, loud enough to be heard clearly even over the noise of the battlefield. "Don't stay grouped together, or else we'll all be easy targets for a bombing run! Make it so they'll hit as many of their own guys as ours if they do!"

"What she said!" Arvis shouted in agreement. "Do it!"

"_I'm going to move up the schedule on that aerial attack,_" Javier's voice popped in on the 17th's channel. "_That all right with you, X?_"

"Do it," X shot back. "We'll handle the cleanup here." As the battlefield became even more chaotic, he began ripping a path through the north side, leaving Arvis behind to oversee the 17th's activities. The priority was to minimize any more deaths, and the 22nd were in the worst position. They were the ones who needed him the most.

Dash-jumping into the air, he fired a charged shot downwards to boost his height, and passed over the head of a startled Maverick. As he did, he adjusted the angle of the jets in his boots and turned his leap into a spin, as he held the Z-saber above his head. The result on the Maverick's head was fairly gruesome, as it was on the one who'd been behind him. Landing neatly as the two corpses tumbled backwards in opposite directions, X plunged the saber into the gut of another Maverick to his left before the foe could react, even as he fired a flurry of shots at one to his right.

Another precisely aimed burst of fuel from his dash boots, and he did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin, but both Mavericks were already recovering. One of them, a snake-model, lunged with his jaws gaping. At the same time, the other, a large red-armored humanoid, raised his arm cannon and activated a burst of flame. The second was faster, and X took the first few licks of fire before dashing back the way he'd come, leaving the snake to charge straight into his comrade's blaze.

Taking a quick glance at the sky and seeing Javier lead nine more Hunters up, the Captain of the 21st flying on a jetpack that had emerged from his back, X turned back to the pair of Mavericks behind him and went for the humanoid. Darting in low to the ground as he turned towards him, he dash-jumped with his Z-saber, carving him from crotch to crown. Landing, he turned to the screaming, burning snake and executed him as well, as three more Mavericks all charged him at once, roaring in fury.

"Evening, X," a familiar voice came from behind them, as clouds of cryogenic gas spread over all three, freezing them to the spot. Finishing them off with clinical stabs of his dark blue beam saber, Serris nodded at X. "I appreciate the backup."

"Seemed like it was appropriate," X replied, grimacing as a shadow passed over them; the gunship was flying overhead. "Alia? Is it dropping bombs?"

"_It doesn't look like it,_" she replied tersely. "_No, wait, there's something falling, but it's not a bomb. It's a reploid, and it's... it's _him_, X_."

X didn't need to ask who _he _was. He turned without another word, and saw what he'd been waiting for. Sigma had jumped from the passing airship, alone, and was falling towards the center of the conflict, where the 17th were concentrated. His new body was monstrous even by his standards, a gigantic hulk bristling with weapons systems. Everybody else had seen him as well, and the entire battlefield went still and silent for an all-too-brief moment as the Maverick Emperor plummeted from the blazing red heavens.

And then he landed, knees bent, and the shockwave sent everybody within twenty feet of him flying away by its force, Hunter and Maverick alike. Straightening his back, he met X's eyes across the battlefield, and his lips twitched upward in that all-too-familiar sneer as what had looked like skeletal black wings on his back sprang to life. Each joint on each segment revealed itself as some kind of weapon, plasma and mag-rounds and small explosives all jumbled together; all opened fire at once, carving a path through friend and foe alike.

"I knew it," X muttered under his breath as he dashed back the way he'd come; only a few Mavericks still stood between them, out of range of their Emperor's assault. "I _knew _he'd show up." The first Maverick in his way was still staring at Sigma; without giving him the chance to recover, X plunged the Z-saber into the side of his neck before moving onto the next one.

Sigma seemed to have the exact same thing in mind. His "wings" went dead again, as he began walking calmly forward towards X, through the corpses he'd created in only a few seconds. When a howling Hunter leaped towards him from behind, Sigma didn't even look. A massive bulge on his right arm, the larger of the two, slid over his hand and formed an buster. Pointing it over his shoulder, the Maverick Emperor fired a blast of plasma fully as large as X's Hyper Cannon, the most powerful buster he'd ever used, and one that he'd unfortunately lost years ago.

The Hunter fell to the ground, smoking, and a horde of ravening Mavericks poured over him as Sigma continued his advance. When another Hunter lunged at him, this time one of X's from the 17th, the Maverick Emperor pulled a steel cylinder from his belt; the hilt of a beam saber, or so X thought. Instead, it promptly extended into a pole before a crosspiece sprang out, extending to either side of one end. Only then did emitters at right angles of both ends of the crosspiece activate, along with a third in the center, creating a beam pitchfork that skewered the Hunter through face, chest and stomach.

"_Enough,_" X snarled, killing both of the Mavericks in his way just as coldly, one with his Buster and one with his Z-saber, before raising his voice. "Everybody stick to the rest of them! I'll handle him!" Stepping forward, he looked up at his eternal nemesis, who regarded him just as calmly, as the battle raged around them. His thoughts drifted back to Mecha, and to the syringe its rulers had given him, which he'd slipped into his chest compartment alongside a pair of Heart Tanks he kept on him at all times to extend his internal operations energy.

"X," Sigma said calmly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

**March 2, 2185, 7:30 PM **

**Ruins of Walt Disney World, Florida **

It was almost like greeting an old friend.

"Sigma," X replied, just as calmly, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings on the matter, blazing with hatred and disgust. It had been several years since they'd last met, but that was nothing, considering how long they'd both been alive, how long they'd been fighting. Them, and one other, who'd left the game decades ago. Left the two-three, counting the consciousness of the Maverick Virus-of them to continue their eternal struggle. And despite the odds, X had persevered, throwing aside the shackles of his pacifism to meet Sigma's endless challenge and defeat it, time after time. Alone.

The last hope of the Maverick Hunters had finally grown up, after Eurasia, no longer needing the armor sets that his father had given him in order to stand a chance at all. Now, he stood before Sigma, his blue armor stained with ash and synthblood, fully accepting what had brought him to that point and ready to do so again, as many times as necessary. With only a Mark-17 X-Buster and a first-generation green beam saber, he was the equal of Sigma's new body, bristling with advanced weaponry and full of ancient malevolence.

**You should infect him, **the Maverick Virus told him, though its suggestion was almost sarcastic, as if it knew what his response would be already. As it should; it was something of a running joke between the two, one that would only be funny to the two of them. Their own, private jest.

_Not yet,_ Sigma thought back, still standing motionless before X. _He's built up a resistance to it, so it would take a much stronger dose than a normal reploid, and he'd dodge it anyways. Besides... infecting him now would be too easy. No... him, we'll save for last. Only once he has seen his world collapse in flames, only when everybody he loves, everything he cares for has been taken from him... only when he finally gives up, will we grant him the blessing of madness and take his pain away from him forever. _

"Subtle," X said at last, sarcastic after several moments of silence.

"I thought so," Sigma replied, deliberately misinterpreting the statement and inclining his head to one side, towards the carnage that still raged around them both. "And here you thought I never had a sense of humor." He met X's eyes again; they both knew that words were unnecessary, at this point. "Shall we, then?"

X needed no further commentary to motivate him. Dashing forward as Sigma raised his buster, he cleaved the massive charged shot in two with a swing of his Z-saber, cutting plasma with plasma, a skill that even Zero had needed twenty years to master fully without the need of an upgrade to boost the weapon's power. Of course, Sigma himself had been able to do it after only six months, in the days when the Z-saber had been his, but that was hardly a fair comparison.

_He couldn't do _that _the last time we met, _Sigma noted with a hint of surprise as the second blue bomber continued his charge. The Maverick Emperor brought his beam trident down on his far smaller opponent, attempting to skewer him, but X leaned to the side just far enough to avoid the jab while continuing on his course. Now inside Sigma's range, X planted both feet on the Maverick Emperor's legs, and dashed again, _vertically _up his ten-foot surface.

A fist to the jaw snapped Sigma's head up and back, before X followed the rising uppercut with a charged shot from the same hand, then bringing up the Z-saber and slicing a deep gash up Sigma's chest. Growling, Sigma swiped at him with his buster hand, but X was already backflipping away and out of range. Landing on his feet, the blue bomber dashed to the side as Sigma activated the arsenal in his "wings," magweaponry and plasma fire and explosives all scoring a trench through the dirt and rubble of the Third World War.

Another charged shot flew towards Sigma, but this one he met with his trident hand, even as he threw the weapon straight towards X. The emitter in his hand activated, and he cut the blast as X had done to his, as the blue bomber flung himself to the side. Though he avoided being spitted, one of the beam trident's prongs still grazed him, slicing into his right shoulder.

The fact that it continued on its course to impale an unlucky Maverick Hunter in the back helped a little, though.

"_Sigma!_" X roared, infuriated anew, as the Hunter died, twitching and moaning.

"Oh, please," Sigma replied dryly, sneering. "That was _your _action, not mine. I was aiming for _you._ Is it my fault you refused to cooperate?"

Snarling, X fired another charged shot before dashing towards him again; he'd long ago learned that those were the only kind that even left a scorch mark on Sigma, no matter what body he was using. Ordinary fire was useless... against Sigma, at least. X himself was another story. Activating his buster again, Sigma used the uncharged function this time, one that he'd based off of an ancient, alternate buster design. One that, at the time, had left its user unable to charge shots in exchange for the other advantages it gave.

The buster fired, at ten times the normal speed of an ordinary X-buster, an automatic stream of death ripping into the ground as it raced towards X. The blue bomber dashed forward and to the side, and Sigma followed him, only for X to turn and dash-jump over the plasma fire even as Sigma raised it, coming straight at him. Unconcerned, Sigma used his trident hand's palm saber to block X's sword, taking the charged shot in the face with no more than a grunt. That, and a smile, as X fell back and landed, bracing himself for another attack immediately.

Dousing his palm saber, Sigma activated the recall function in his beam trident, still sticking out of the dead hunter behind X. Deactivating momentarily, it flipped around before blazing to life once more and flinging itself straight towards Sigma's outstretched hand, unconcerned with the small blue Hunter between the two even as X moved to attack.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to be; instinct was the only explanation for how X was able to realize what was about to happen, and abort his attack, flinging himself to the dirt. Catching the weapon, Sigma jabbed at him again even as he fired off his "wings," aiming the massive weapons array at the prone Hunter. Only the first few rounds hit home, unfortunately; firing off his dash boots without bothering to rise, X blasted forward towards Sigma's legs headfirst, even as plasma and metal pierced his armor.

Any amusement Sigma might have felt at the sight of X lying on the ground at his feet vanished when the Hunter lashed out with his beam saber, scoring Sigma's ankles. Growling, he flexed his knees and leapt into the air, attempting to bring his massive weight down and crush X's spine. Unfortunately, X simply dashed again, behind and away from him. By the time Sigma had landed and turned around, X was back on his feet, and another charged shot burned into Sigma's face, the weakest-though still incredibly resistant-portion of his body.

"Ha!" Sigma laughed, grinning maniacally. "Not bad, X! Not bad at all! Let's turn it up a notch!" Jumping again, this time straight up, he activated the hoverjets in the soles of his feet, and stood there in the air, ten feet up and fully suspended. As X blinked, surprised, he fired off another charged shot, which the Hunter recovered in time to dash under. Undeterred, Sigma jabbed down at him with his trident again, but X was expecting that, and dashed backwards at the last moment, firing at Sigma's head once more.

This time, when Sigma threw the beam trident, it came towards X at a downwards angle, and lodged in nothing more than the ground when he dodged back even further. Sigma's wings followed it with a storm of destruction, one which X dashed to the side to avoid. As soon as the wings went still again-as powerful as they were, they could only fire for a few seconds at a time before the matter generators that provided the ammunition needed to recharge-X moved back to the trident, stuck in the ground at a diagonal angle, even as Sigma raised his buster and prepared to fire.

To Sigma's surprise, X charged directly _into _the stream of fire, crossing his arms over his face to protect it. Shots slammed into him at a rapid pace, but still he continued, actually dashing _onto _Sigma's own beam trident and then off of it, somehow managing to place his feet on the thin shaft long enough to dash and jump off of it, straight towards the airborne Maverick.

**You're being too predictable, **the Maverick Virus said critically, as X delivered both a point-blank charged shot directly to the face and another brutal cut with the Z-Saber; only by leaning back at the last moment was Sigma able to avoid taking the latter through his face, and even then it still cut a massive gash into his shoulder and chest. **He's already caught on, and he knows what you'll do next. He has the advantage, and he'll keep it. **

_This isn't our real fight, _Sigma thought back, as his beam trident whirled around before lunging at X again as he fell back to earth, shooting straight beneath Sigma's feet. _This is just the warm-up. The opening act. When the _real _showdown comes along, he'll expect me to fight just like I did this time, and _that's _when I'll give him a rude awakening. _

The instant he landed, X fired off his dash boots and jumped, in a way that provided enough propulsion that he was able to do a backflip over the beam trident. Turning around in the air, Sigma snorted and held out a hand, catching his weapon before opening fire with his "wings" once more. Unfortunately, that was enough time for X to dash back under him again, prompting Sigma to drop to the earth. As he had when he'd landed from the Rogumer, his impact created a shockwave, one that knocked X off of his feet.

Sneering again, Sigma raised his buster and fired off a gigantic charged shot, one that X was barely able to dash away from without rising; even then, it grazed the back of his boots, and despite his enemy's efforts to remain stoic, Sigma heard him hiss with pain. When X moved to climb back to his feet, the Maverick Emperor hurled his trident once more, and this time one of its plasma blades found X's arm even as the Blue Bomber lunged to the side. Continuing through and past him, it hit one of Sigma's own Mavericks, killing him as quickly as the Hunter earlier.

_How many of them are left, here? _He thought idly as he opened fire with his "wings."

**Forty-nine left, **the Maverick Virus replied, sounding slightly irritable now. **The Hunters have won. There's only two groups and a few stragglers left, and they're dying quickly. **

_Que sera, sera,_ Sigma responded with a philosophical shrug as, on cue, the Rogumer-class gunship he'd made his entrance in exploded overhead. _And there goes that, too. It's just as well that we never meant to win this one in the first place. _

**Then why did we throw away that extra hundred?** The Virus demanded, watching through Sigma's eyes as X dashed and dodged, avoiding the barrage of artillery. **Losing the New Maverick Nation was bad enough, even if they were useless, but then we go and add some of our own forces to the slaughter, even though we knew they would only die. What's the point?**

_You really don't care about anything at all except the numbers, do you? _Sigma thought, amused, as he fired off his buster once more, leading X even as the Maverick Hunter hit him in the head with a charged shot once more. He would need reconstructive surgery from one of their enslaved doctors, along with a refill of his internal operations energy; though he guessed that X was down to less than half of his, Sigma's was in a similar state. _About how many are yours. How many belong to you. How many souls you're composed of. _

**Of course not,** the Virus agreed. **That's the point. That's all that matters. **It sent a brief, momentary blast of pain through Sigma's systems, only long enough to make him twitch for a split-second. A warning. **I'll ask again. What was the point of this, Sigma? **

_The point, my friend, was to wake X up, _Sigma told it as he recalled his trident. _To remind him of what his life truly is. Of the nightmare from which death will be a release, should he be lucky enough to receive it. It's just about played out, however, and so... _Firing off another barrage from his wings, he waited until it was complete before folding his arms and speaking aloud. "Hahahaha... you haven't lost your touch, X. I'm glad to see it. That should do for today." As he readied himself to depart, he met X's eyes... and what he saw there gave him pause.

"Running away, Sigma?" X said scornfully, calm and cold. "Where's the fun in that? You came all this way. Why not enjoy yourself a bit more?"

**Well, now, **the Virus murmured. **That doesn't sound like X at all. **

_No, it doesn't,_ Sigma agreed, looking the Hunter over again, more carefully this time. _That sounds more like something Zero would have said, than X. Has he really changed that much, or... no. No, he's got something up his sleeve. He's _planning _something. Interesting. _"If you're that eager for death, X... perhaps I _can _put off my afternoon appointment a little longer!"

Activating the hoverjets in his feet again, Sigma rose into the air before firing off his buster and hurling his trident in rapid succession, much faster than he had before. Dashing under the first, and then back away from the last, X changed directions again and blasted off of the trident to reach Sigma, just as he had before. Of course, he'd seen that coming, but even as he prepared to fire off his wings and blow him out of the air, X was already there.

_So fast! _Sigma thought, eyes wide, as X opened his chest compartment in mid-air and pulled something from it. _Did he manage to upgrade his dash boots somehow, or..._ Even as he wondered, X hit, actually slamming bodily into him, grabbing onto one of Sigma's shoulders with one hand.

And even as his "wings" turned that hand into scrap metal, though the rest of X was shielded by Sigma's own massive body, the second Blue Bomber slammed something into the side of his nemesis' thick neck with his other hand. The weapon he'd pulled from his chest compartment. A reploid syringe, used on one of the only unarmored parts of Sigma's new body.

"Really, X?" Sigma asked, disappointed, as X dropped to the earth, clutching his maimed hand and howling involuntarily. "Another 'miracle' cure for me? Again? Was _that _what you were planning?" He shook his head, preparing himself for what would probably be an intense amount of pain. It might even eject him from his new body. But it wouldn't kill him. How did you kill a ghost? An immortal mind, welded permanently to that of a living computer virus?

And that was when he realized that he could no longer hear the Virus' voice, sense its mind within his own, feel its contaminating presence in his bones and blood. He realized that he couldn't even feel his body himself. He was there, but the body was no longer his. He wasn't being cast out, wasn't being banished or cleansed or damaged... he was simply frozen. Paralyzed. Stopped. A soul put on pause. All that he felt was the _void, _the _lack _of a conscious mind for the body of a sentient being. It was beyond words, beyond thought, beyond comprehension. An utter, primal need for _something_.

And something came. Something that had long been gone, that had vanished decades ago, returned, pulled back by that indescribable _need_ that the syringe had created. And as it rushed back to fill him once more, Sigma saw it all. Everything that he had done, every atrocity he had committed, every friend (or minion, or were there those who had been both? Could something like him even have friends at all?) he'd betrayed, every victim he'd murdered or worse than murdered. All the horror, all the bloodshed, all the death and destruction and _infection_ he'd been responsible for.

He saw it all, in the space of only a few seconds. Every moment of nearly eighty years as the greatest plague the reploid world had ever known, all at once. He saw it, and he saw himself, what he had become... and he screamed, raising his hands to the blood-red heavens above, as the weight of his sins crushed him, body and soul and mind. As he _realized_ who and what he was, in a way he had never before. For that part of him which was even capable of doing so had vanished, after his first death... and now had returned.

_Moscow. Casablanca. Cairo. Ireland. Hawaii. The satellite Eurasia. The truth. Dark Iris. URFAWP. Zero's reclamation. Repliforce. Dopplertown. The X-Hunters. Velguarder. Sting. Launch. Boomer. Arm. Spark. Storm. Flame. Chill. Cancer. Cain. All those years, all those Uprisings... so much death, so much destruction, so much suffering, so much sorrow... who? Who could have done such things? What am I? Who am I? Why can't I _remember_? _

"I..." he whispered at last, fallen to earth once more, staring at his own blood-stained hands in horror, as X watched him with surprise and suspicion mixed in his eyes. "I am Sigma... Commanding Officer... of the Maverick Hunters. X... what have I done?"

And then he was gone, fleeing in mindless panic, warping away on the wind.

**March 2, 2185, Noon **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"With all due respect, what the _hell _was _in _that thing you jabbed him with?" Pitbull's voice was level, but only through a great deal of obvious effort; the anger in his voice was still just as clearly audible as it was visible on his face.

"That does seem to be the operative question," Signas agreed, as every eye in the meeting room turned to X. It had been two hours since the victorious Hunters had finished eradicating every last living Maverick, and returned to the MHHQ, exhausted and furious at the price they'd paid for Sigma's latest trick. They'd won, but casualties had been far from minimal. "Whatever it is, it did appear to have some effect. I just wish we knew what that effect _was._"

"Screaming and running was certainly _interesting_, especially from him, but it's hardly enough to support any conclusions alone," Lifesaver murmured, as clinical as ever.

"Well, X?" Lassiter prompted the Hunter sitting across the table from him, more calmly than Pitbull, but no less firmly.

"To be honest, I don't know myself," X admitted finally. Ever since returning, he'd almost seemed dazed; whenever anybody wasn't directly commanding his full attention, he'd stared off into space, and was doing the same now, hands on both sides of his head as he leaned over the table. "I got it when I was down there. In the hidden city of the Robot Masters. Their leader gave it to me, as a present. Said one of them-the other female reploid, Countess, the only one we haven't seen up here-had been working on it ever since she was created."

"And they advised you to use it on Sigma?" Alia asked him gently; her face was calm, but Signas had known both her and X long enough to sense her worry, and the reason for it.

"Yes." X finally raised his head to meet her eyes. "They said it was the 'silver bullet.' I assumed it was just another attempt at a cure, so I didn't really expect much, but it was worth a shot. I'd have brought it back and turned it over for testing first, but..." He left it hanging.

"But that shitstorm broke out, and you didn't have time," Javier finished for him, shaking his head. The stout Captain had taken severe wounds during his assault on the Rogumer-class gunship, where he'd personally set the charges that had destroyed the main reactor, but he'd insisted on remaining active long enough to attend the meeting, despite Lifesaver's recommendations. "And when Sigma showed up, you took the chance. No telling how long it would have been before you got another one if you passed it up."

"Exactly." X slowly nodded. "I just wish I knew what it _did._"

"There are, fortunately, a couple of other possible sources on base for that answer," Alia pointed out. "Shall I step out for a moment, and send for them?"

"They weren't feeling too talkative earlier, from what I hear," Suzy told her, frowning. "Why would they change their minds now?"

"Because the game's changed," X said quietly, his voice growing more firm, and when he continued there was nothing of his earlier confusion in it. "Mecha were the ones who warned me about what was going to happen. Prince was as surprised as I was, so they probably only learned about it after he left. They told me as soon as they'd convinced me to hear them out, and take that syringe. If they hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to grab the 17th and come in, let alone the 00."

"And by the time _we _figured it out, and called in for reinforcements, we'd have been down a _lot _more men," Helen continued, scowling and clutching her arm, which had been wounded in the fight. "Damn! I hate to admit it, but that's a pretty good point in these guys' favor."

"You think you'll be able to convince them to talk now, then?" Douglas asked X.

"Yeah." He nodded. "I do. And I think we should."

"Do it, then," Signas told Alia, and she nodded before stepping outside; she would need to leave the room before communicating with any other member of the staff. As she walked towards the door, he continued. "Today's battle may have been won, but the price was heavier than I'd have liked."

"What were the total casualties, anyways?" Pitbull grunted.

"Seven from the 21st, eight from both the 22nd and 23rd," Serris told him, calm and cold. "Three from the 17th and four from the 00. Thirty total. An entire Unit's worth between us."

"He suckered us," Helen added, eyes narrowed. "Again. No matter how many times it happens, we still keep falling for it, every goddamn time. I can't believe we bought _that _clown act."

"The past is the past," Signas said, shaking his head slowly. "We cannot change it, but the future is another story. Normally, by now I would have expected Sigma to proceed to the next stage of whatever his latest plan is, but it's been two hours and there's been nothing more than normal activity, anywhere in the world."

"Could be what X stuck him with had something to do with that," Lassiter suggested. "He didn't seem to take it well."

"No, he didn't," Suzy agreed, as Alia reentered the room and began walking back to her chair. "I wasn't there, so maybe I'm wrong, but from what I could see when I watched the footage, it looked like he was saying something, after he finished yelling and all."

"Yes." X slowly nodded. "He did."

"What was it?" Lifesaver asked the obvious, after a moment's silence.

"I am Sigma," X whispered, so quietly that Signas was glad the Captains of the 29th and 30th both had excellent hearing. "Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters."

"Well," Douglas drawled, after another few moments of silence. "Good thing there's no possible way _that _could be anything but a good sign."

"Looked pretty rattled, to me, from what I could see of him," Lassiter pointed out. "And yes, I know how ridiculous it is, saying that about _him_."

"He's not immune to shock," X told him grimly. "It's rare, but it's happened before. I've seen it. Whatever it was that that syringe did, it got to him. I just wish I knew how." He shook his head. "At any rate, I wouldn't count on it actually changing anything. He's bounced back from worse. We'd better keep assuming that another Maverick Uprising could break out at any moment. Right now, though, we have other concerns to discuss."

"I'll admit, there isn't much more to say on that matter at the moment," Signas said, surprised, though he kept his face calm; it wasn't often, these days, that X spoke with such authority, and especially not when at a meeting with his equals in rank. "However, you sound as if you consider this next subject to be of just as much importance."

"Maybe not just as much, but it's close," X admitted, looking around. "The hidden city of the Robot Masters. Everybody knows by now that I agreed to go there, and meet with their leaders, before returning for today's fight."

"Well, none of us wanted to come out and _say _it," Javier admitted. "But yeah, okay, enough. Spill, X. What's the deal? Are they Maverick or not?"

"No." X shook his head. "One thing I'm sure of is that they're not Maverick. The only one who's ever killed a human is their leader, and he hasn't done that in a very long time."

"Um, X..." Simon coughed. "I'm pretty sure that if he's killed humans, the term 'Maverick' still applies to him, at least. It doesn't exactly have an expiration date."

"It would," Signas agreed, glancing at X. When his greatest Hunter nodded slightly, he continued. "If their leader was a reploid. When X said it had been a long time, he meant that he vowed to never kill another human before the term 'Maverick' even existed. The leader of these thieves, of this hidden society of Robot Masters, is a Robot Master himself. A survivor of the age of Mega Man." He closed his eyes. "King, son of Wily."

"Wait a second here," Suzy said, large blue eyes narrowing. "I remember reading about that guy once. Didn't he lead the Ninth Robot Rebellion, all by himself? Try to create a nation of robots, free of human control, even his creator's? Killed a lot of people trying to make it happen before he was taken down, too, I think."

"Everybody thought so at the time," X agreed, crossing his arms. "In the end, it turned out the entire thing was just another one of Dr. Wily's schemes, and King was a fall guy from the start. We know how _that _goes."

"Boy, do we ever," Lassiter agreed, rolling his eyes.

"But he still killed humans, didn't he?" Alia, of all people, was the one who asked, now frowning slightly as she met X's eyes.

"He did," X admitted. "For some reason, the original Mega Man spared him anyways, and he turned from his father's path, just like his two elder brothers both did. He claims he hasn't killed a single human or reploid ever since, for more than a century now. And I believe him." He paused, before relenting. "That being said, we should probably have somebody who's better at spotting a liar than I am talk to him about it, just in case, if we agree to his suggestion."

"Suggestion?" Signas raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's more like a proposal," X continued. "One I think we should at least consider."

"Sir?" A voice came from the other side of the door. "We're here with the prisoners."

"Show them in, then return to your duties," Signas replied, raising his voice to carry across the room.

"Sir?" The guard asked, hesitantly. "You want us to just leave them with you?"

"Son, we got thirty of our best between them and the noncombatants," Pitbull yelled back. "If even _one _of us goes down, the lot of us don't deserve our rank." It seemed that was enough to convince the guards; a moment later, the door opened, and Duke and Marquis walked through, rubbing their wrists. Unfortunately, their first words didn't exactly do much to endear them to their audience.

"It's big," Duke noted, mustache twitching as he looked around. "A lot bigger than ours."

"Do you suppose somebody might be compensating for something?" Marquis asked coolly, smirking.

"Really, guys?" X asked, shaking his head, as several pairs of eyes down the table narrowed. "Really? Come on."

"We're suckers for the classics." Duke shrugged. "Well then, why don't we get down to business. As grateful as we are that we're being given the chance to discuss matters like gentlemen-and ladies, of course-I'm sure you realize that our degree of talkativeness depends rather severely on a couple of other factors."

"I thought it would." X nodded slowly. "I went with Prince, to Mecha. I met with King, and the other six. They gave me their offer. And a silver bullet, as well."

"You don't say," Marquis murmured, his voice no longer dry, though his smirk remained. "Isn't _that _interesting. And what would you like us to tell you about _that_?"

"You can start with what was _in _that 'silver bullet' of yours," Serris suggested.

"Unfortunately, you're asking the wrong men." Duke shrugged. "My partner's talents lie in architecture, and I'm more of an expert on the social sciences, myself. I've spent enough time with Countess to tell you the basics, but for a scientific explanation, you'd have to ask her herself. That was her greatest task, after all, not ours."

"That will do for now." Signas folded his arms. "Continue."

"The 'Silver Bullet' project was designed to find a way to deal with Sigma, permanently," Duke continued, his tone growing more serious now as he and Marquis both leaned against the wall next to the door, arms folded. "From the failure of every attempt at a cure, she realized that direct methods were likely to fail, and thus pursued a more subtle solution."

"Can't argue _that _one, I guess," Lassiter muttered under his breath.

"What was in that syringe was a program designed to induce a state of being similar to behavior observed commonly in Infected Mavericks over the years," Duke continued. "Specifically, when a Maverick takes injuries which are not immediately fatal, but which guarantee their demise nonetheless, within minutes."

"The Virus leaves 'em," Pitbull, of all people, explained in an unusually somber voice. "If you do it right, they don't have time to say anything... but you can see it in their eyes. Just for a little bit, before the end. If you don't do it right..." He trailed off.

"So this program was meant to artificially induce that state?" Lifesaver asked, frowning. "How is that different from purging him of the Virus?"

"Because the Virus wasn't purged at all," Duke explained. "Not even close. Countess figured that even _if _that worked, all it would do was drive Sigma from the body, leaving it an empty shell. His core consciousness _is _the Virus, by now. You can't have one without the other. What the 'Silver Bullet' was meant to do was to freeze the Virus' functions, temporarily. To paralyze it, for the space of a few moments, a minute at most. And _because _of Sigma's bond with the Virus, it stopped all of his mind's higher functions as well."

"All right, I think I followed that," Douglas said, though his voice was slightly uncertain. "I can't really see the point, though. So you stopped him in his tracks for a moment. He'd just keep going once it wore off, right?"

"Well." Duke made a face. "Not exactly. I might as well warn you, from this point on, her theory entered the abstract, more than a little. Specifically, the metaphysical."

"Most men and women of science prefer to avoid such things," Lifesaver pointed out, frowning slightly.

"And she is no exception," Marquis assured him. "But while of course we have no hard facts to prove ourselves, we of Mecha have seen certain things over the years that indicate that there is, in fact, more to existence than this world alone."

"We have seen... certain evidence to support that ourselves," Signas murmured, as most of the room's inhabitants looked at X, who remained silent. "Continue."

"Countess theorized, reluctantly, that when Sigma's body entered such a state, it would produce a reaction entirely unique to him," Duke explained, his eyes dark and serious now, without a trace of his earlier sarcasm. "In short, that his body would remain fully functional, but without a mind to direct it. From what we know, she concluded that the possibility was high that, in that state, his body would automatically seek to fill the void presented to it. To find a mind that belonged to it, to direct its actions. And that if it could not do so with what was at hand... it would recall what was lost, long ago. The mind that was his, before it left him, that he still subconsciously remembered."

"Are you honestly trying to tell us that that gave _Sigma _back his _soul_?" Lassiter demanded.

"Perhaps." Duke raised his hands and shrugged. "Countess preferred to put it a little differently. She described it as his mind's programming reverting to an early state of function, one preceding his infection, so that it would be able to override the Silver Bullet. That being said, don't get your hopes up. She admitted that even should it work, not only would he still remember all of his atrocities, but that as soon as the effect wore off, the Maverick Virus would regain contact with his mind. He remains your enemy and ours, the King of the Mavericks, all the same."

"Then what's the point?" Alia asked quietly, neither acceptance nor doubt in her eyes. "Why do it at all, if it wouldn't change anything?"

"But it did," Marquis said quietly, his smirk finally gone. "Sigma will doubt, now. The man who committed the worst atrocities the world has seen in nearly a hundred years, without so much as an ounce of hesitation, will no longer be able to do so. He will doubt, and over time, until he is killed once more, those doubts will only accumulate. Perhaps, by the time he is..." He fell silent.

"It's not much," Duke admitted. "Countess knew it, and worried that she'd failed. But it was the best she could do. And it was worth a shot."

"That's why I did it in the first place," X agreed quietly. "Because it was worth a shot. I suppose it still is." He glanced at Signas. "Let's move on. I trust that the two of you knew what King would propose to me, when I went to meet him? To the Hunters?"

"That we did," Marquis agreed, his smirk returning now.

"I think you'd better tell us just what this proposal is, X," Signas said quietly. "As much as we appreciate this gesture of goodwill, it's not quite enough to clear these gentlemen of suspicion."

"I was _wondering _when somebody was going to say it," Suzy muttered.

"What I want to know is, just how large of an organization are we dealing with, here?" Lassiter asked, folding his arms. "X, you went there. What did you see?"

"I saw a lot, Lassiter," X replied. "A great many things. As for military strength... their leadership consists of King, and the eight reploids serving directly under him. Aside from them, every other citizen of Mecha is a Robot Master, more than a third of which have risen to the intellectual level of a reploid through breaking either the Second or Third Law of Robotics, enhancing their mental state by doing so. I've seen the phenomenon before. More importantly, most, if not all of them, have also been upgraded to a reploid's combat level."

"There aren't many people out there, who can do that," Lifesaver murmured, looking intrigued by the mention of their psychology.

"No, there aren't." X shook his head. "I've only met two, maybe three, in all my life... and that was a long time ago. According to King, they number five hundred and forty such Robot Masters."

"That... could be a problem," Pitbull said slowly. "Especially if it's a fortified position."

"Oh, yeah." X glanced at Marquis. "It's fortified."

"It's so nice, when one's work is admired," the effeminate reploid murmured. "That being said, as flattering as it is to be thought of so highly, in the end, you gentlemen would of course be triumphant. Which is why we have gone to such efforts to arrange an alternate solution."

"Which is?" Signas asked again.

"A direct alliance," X told him, meeting his eyes. "Proposed by King himself. A treaty between the hidden city of Mecha, and the Maverick Hunters. He was very specific about that. He won't sign with the nation of Japan, but he will with us, assuming we'd agree to keep their secret."

"Even from the Japanese government?" Simon whistled. "That's... an interesting suggestion. I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"If the government found out..." Alia said quietly, shaking her head. "We'd be declared Maverick, on the spot."

"No we wouldn't," Pitbull growled. "Because that'd be suicide, and the government knows it. They need us, now more than ever. Still, best if they didn't. What I'm wondering is, just what's in this treaty for us."

"Direct assistance, in the field, should it be necessary," Duke told him, meeting his eyes calmly. "Only in case of an emergency, for obvious reasons, but should that emergency occur, our forces would be willing to support yours."

"Five hundred and forty additional troops, as a secret reserve, in case the world really does start to end?" Lassiter murmured. "I have to admit, that's a pretty tempting offer."

"It's a risky offer, is what it is," X said, and more than a few heads nodded in agreement. "But it's still worth considering. I think we should open negotiations."

"That much, we can agree on," Signas said, mind ablaze with a dozen conflicting thoughts, in a way it seldom was. "I take it Mecha will be willing to accommodate other visitors, now?"

"So long as it's done with the appropriate secrecy, and you don't try sending in an entire Unit?" Marquis drawled. "Perfectly acceptable."

"Then in return for your 'Silver Bullet,' I suppose we should return the gesture," Signas decided. "You are both free to go."

"While I'm sure Marquis would be all too glad to do so, I would prefer to decline," Duke told him. "As I said before, Countess had her sovereign duty, and I have mine. With your permission, I will remain, as Mecha's ambassador." He smiled. "I look forward to working with you."

"Very well," Signas agreed, despite his doubts, and nobody else objected either.

**March 2, 2185, 3:00 PM **

**Mecha **

"Margravine!" The Wood Man who led the District Nine Art Institute said cheerfully as his overseer and her partner walked in. He'd shed the bulky, log-shaped helmet his model normally came with, revealing a round, cheerful face with close-cropped hair the same pleasant color his armor had been repainted, that of a redwood tree. "Viscount! Good afternoon, both of you!"

"Afternoon, Red," Margravine replied, smiling, as did Viscount; the Robot Master had been one of the first in her district to awaken, and a good friend as well as a loyal citizen for decades now, which was why she'd appointed him to head up one of her favorite pet projects. "How's everything going, down here?"

"Well, it's been a bit hectic, what with our visitor and all," Red explained, stepping out from around the desk in his office. "Not all of the usuals are in right now, but that's to be expected. The ones that are seem to have been influenced by him."

"I imagine so," Viscount remarked. "Just make sure he doesn't find out he had that much of an impact. From what I hear, he's uncomfortable enough with being known as a hero. An upgrade to 'celebrity' might very well push him over the edge."

"I'm fairly certain it's only a passing phase," Red assured him. "He was something new and different, is all. That sort of thing has an effect on aspiring artists. Would you care to take a look at some of what they've produced?"

"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" Margravine winked. "Unless you'd prefer to talk about your records instead?"

"Ah," Red murmured, smiling sheepishly; although it was impossible for Robot Masters to sweat, she could almost see him doing so anyways. "Well, um, if you..."

"A joke, Red," Viscount said, and she could tell without looking that he'd be rolling his eyes. "By all means, show us the way."

"Of course!" He walked past them, out the door, and they followed him down the hall to the studio.

"Be nice," she murmured in her partner's ear as they walked. "Red's a good guy."

"By my standards, that _was _nice," he told her, just as quietly. "Besides, you were the one who started it."

"Like you said, it was a joke," she pointed out.

"And I appreciated it, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes." Now it was her turn to roll her eyes as they entered the main studio hall. A dozen Robot Masters were scattered throughout it, of all different models and modifications; some looked fresh off the assembly line, while others were practically unrecognizable with what they were wearing. Standing at easels or sitting in corners with sketchpads, working with plaster or clay or in one case even metal, they all turned to glance their way as the three of them walked in.

"As you were, gentlemen," Red told them, and they all turned back to their work. "We're just taking a look at what you've come up with."

"What he said." Margravine nodded, as she and Viscount began drifting around. The first painting she looked at was one of X, though only in the vaguest of terms; he was only a rough blur, barely detailed enough to tell that it was him. Far more effort had been put into drawing the Maverick he was facing, a hideous biological monstrosity out of a nightmare with more than one head located at various places on its otherwise roughly humanoid torso, none of which were human at all.

"Giger, right?" Viscount guessed at the inspiration.

"A bit obvious?" Heavy, the Gravity Man at the easel, asked wryly.

"A little," Margravine admitted, patting his shoulder. "Still, your technique's improving. Let me know when it's done, huh? I'd like to see the finished product." Next, the two of them drifted over to a corner where an Aqua Man named Burble was working on a sketchpad. "Mind if we take a look?"

"Uh, sure!" The diminutive Robot Master said cheerfully, only hesitating a moment before turning his sketchpad around. It was X again, this time a profile, his features finely detailed. Of course, the addition of a greasepaint mustache and a pair of heavy eyebrows, along with thick glasses and a smoking cigar, lent an entirely different look to him.

"Ha!" Viscount barked out, and Margravine had to chuckle as well.

"Okay, that's pretty good," she admitted.

"Not the most original idea in the world, I'll admit, but I couldn't resist once I thought of it," Burble explained.

"Keep having more of those kinds of thoughts," she told him as she and Viscount walked away. Next, they drifted over to a sculptor, who was still in the initial stages of his work. The humanoid figure was rough and undefined, but she already had a guess as to who it would be, as well as what the head-shaped lump underneath his foot would turn into after more work; he was posing heroically, one arm in the air. "Hm. Any particular school of thought behind this one?"

"Um..." Lunkhead, the Hard Man with the deliberately misleading name who was working on it, gave her a hopeful look. "Irony?"

"Heh." Viscount chuckled again.

"Nice try," she said, patting his arm. "Keep at it, all the same." Drifting over to another easel, they looked over the shoulders of the serious-looking Ice Man, and both of them whistled. "Hey, now. _This _is different." It was a highly stylized representation of a cabalistic Tree of Life, or more properly, a treeborg, one divided down the middle; the colors shifted variously along it, both of the tree itself and of the sky and ground around it. Some of the sephiroths showed the more prominent scenes of the history of Robot Masters, and others those of the reploids.

"I like it," Viscount said quietly, his usually sardonic voice openly intrigued now.

"Thank you," Polarstern, the Ice Man, said in a slight German accent; he'd lived in that country for nearly a century before they'd "recruited" him, and unlike the Guts Man they'd found there more recently, had adapted his voice to match those around him.

"It's different," Margravine repeated quietly, looking it over again. "Interesting." After another moment, she turned to give the painter a serious glance. "But is it art?"

"I'm not sure," he said after thinking it over; every eye in the room was on the three of them now. Eventually, he shook his head. "No. But I think it's getting there."

"Good answer," Viscount told him, as both of them smiled.

"When it's done, we'd like a print, if you don't mind," Margravine followed up as they turned away. "Framed, please, Red. And I think we'll show it to his Majesty, as well."

"You honor me, Margravine," Polarstern told her, bowing his head. "Um... can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replied, as they paused in their tracks. "What is it?"

"Will there be more visitors to our city, from the outside world?" He asked; everybody else was still watching them.

"We can only hope," Viscount said, nodding slightly. "At the moment, we're attempting to reach an accord with the Maverick Hunters. We fully expect that many of them will be just as curious as Mega Man X."

"And..." Polarstern looked at his feet, his accent thickening slightly, though his tone remained level. "Some of them will be girls?"

For the first time in a very, _very _long time, Margravine found herself at a loss for words.

"That's a logical conclusion, yes," Viscount told them after a long pause of his own. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Viscount." Prince's voice came from a wall speaker, and they both glanced towards it, trying not to show their relief openly. "Margravine. Report to the Dark Hall immediately. Marquis has returned to Mecha."

"Well, it's about time," she said tartly, glad to have an excuse to change the subject. "We'd better get over there. Have a nice day, everybody."

"You too," Red replied; if she didn't know better, she'd have said he looked amused. Before she could think about that, though, Viscount was walking out, and she followed at his side. Only once they were out of the building and back on the street did they give each other a glance.

"Well," he said quietly. "I must admit, I didn't quite see _that _one coming, although I feel like I should have."

"Ditto," she agreed, shaking her head. "We'd better talk to some of the others. We might have to move up a certain aspect of our plans, to prevent... complications, down the line."

"I don't _quite _think the Maverick Hunters would be willing to allow it, unfortunately," he pointed out, shaking his head. "_That's _a bit much."

"Point." She sighed. "After the meeting, shall we see about that bottle of scotch?"

"An excellent suggestion." He nodded, and they both fell silent as they continued quickly through the streets to the Kingdome. Entering, they made their way to the Dark Hall, and found the rest of the group already assembled, save for Duke. Marquis was leaning back in his chair, his usual insolent smirk on his face; if he'd found the rigors of captivity to be at all unpleasant, he showed no signs of it.

"We were wondering when you were going to get back," Margravine addressed him lightly as the two of them took their seats. "Did it take the Hunters _this _long to release you?"

"Hardly." He sniffed. "While I was up there, I decided to take a couple of hours and enjoy myself in Tokyo. A crime of which, of course, the two of you remain _entirely _innocent of during any of your own excursions to the world above. Besides, I don't think you're in any position to lecture _me _on timeliness at the moment, are you? What _were_ you doing?"

"Taking a look at how one of her art institutes is going," Viscount answered, unusually bluntly. "They're coming along, but it seems there's been a certain development we didn't quite expect."

"Dare I ask?" Prince raised an eyebrow.

"They want girlfriends," Margravine told him flatly, and everybody at the table fell silent for a few moments.

Earl said something crude.

"Ha!" A bark of laughter rang through the hall at that, and everybody looked up at the viewing gallery overhead. It was a woman's voice, one with a thick Irish brogue, one that became even more apparent as she continued. "I was wonderin' when that'd start. Suppose the two of us had best watch out for secret admirers."

"I'm fairly sure even the Unawakened know better than _that_," another woman pointed out, her accent just as strong, a British one in her case, and her voice just as amused. "Still, that's an interesting development, isn't it?"

"'Interesting' is a good word for it, all right," Viscount muttered, crossing his arms on the table and sinking his face into them. "In the ancient Chinese sense."

"As fascinating as it is, we have more important matters to discuss," Countess said, glancing at Marquis.

"Indeed we do," King agreed, doing the same; he was the only one whose face had remained calm despite what Magravine had said. "Report, Marquis."

"From what I gathered when we met with them, they're giving serious consideration to our proposal," he explained, serious now. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's a certainty, but they're definitely interested. X most of all, despite how cold he tried to act. And their Commanding Officer, as well. I'd say the odds are in our favor. Duke certainly seemed to think so."

"How long would you say it will take before they come to a conclusion, then?" Prince asked.

"At least forty-eight hours, minimum," Marquis said after a moment's thought. "Probably no more than a week, at most."

"Will matters escalate, before then?" Prince asked, frowning.

"Not if the Silver Bullet worked," Countess replied, looking tense. "Did they say anything about that?"

"Oh, my, yes." Marquis smiled slightly again. "I didn't get to watch the footage myself, but from what they said, it must have been quite spectacular. They grilled us on that, even before they moved on to the treaty. If they agree, then once we start getting visitors, I'm sure some of them will want to talk to you about it, in detail."

"It is out of our hands, at the moment, then," King decided. "We will operate on the assumption that the Hunters will agree to the treaty, and that Sigma will remain quiet for some time. Long enough to allow us to prepare for what lies ahead."

"We didn't tell X everything," Prince observed quietly, a simple statement of fact without opinion or judgment. "Not even close."

"No, we did not," King agreed, closing his eyes. "We could not. For while I admire the Maverick Hunters, and the work they do, our first priority must be our own preservation. Our responsibility is to our people, before theirs. I dislike even lies of omission, but in this matter, we had no choice." He twitched then, seemingly involuntarily, as a bizarre effect began to appear on his bright orange armor. Starting on one hand, a wave of purple color began to advance up his left arm, spreading like spilled liquid.

"Your Majesty!" Countess said, eyes widening. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," King grunted, face screwed up in concentration, and the purple contamination paused before retreating again, giving way to his armor's normal orange coloration. After a few moments, it was gone once more, and he opened his eyes again. "My apologies. I allowed my stress to gain control of me, for a moment."

"There is nothing to apologize for, your majesty," Prince assured him, and they all nodded, even Earl. "I doubt that any of us would be able to bear your burden at all, let alone for so long."

"I am not so sure." King shook his head slowly. "Regardless, our course of action remains the same. For the sake of our citizenry, for their survival and ours... the time is soon coming when we will be forced to take action."

"To take up arms," Margravine said quietly.

"It will be necessary." King nodded. "Once the truths which we have not yet revealed to the Maverick Hunters come to light... yes. Instruct the citizens to prepare, but to do so quietly, and subtly. I do not doubt that some of our visitors will be inspectors, to assess our threat level. They must not learn of what we intend, until the time comes. A time which will come all too soon, I fear."

"So do we all, your Majesty," Viscount agreed, shaking his head slowly as he took Margravine's hand in his, and they both tightened their grip. "So do we all."

Soon, all too soon... the time would come for Mecha to go to war.


	8. Chapter 7: False Resurrections

_**Chapter 7: False Resurrections **_

**March 3, 2118, 8:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"Good morning, Doctor Corbun!" Alexander greeted him cheerfully as he walked out of his quarters in Mecha's central building. What had once been the Tokyo Robot Museum, the first and greatest of its kind, had been completely remodeled now, to serve as the heart of their hidden city. They'd left the exhibits intact, of course, but most of them had been moved into storage so that the rooms they had occupied could be used for other purposes. Only a few exceptions, such as the Hall of the Robot Masters, its most famous display, had been left where they were.

"Good morning, Alexander." Corbun nodded to the Guts Man, smiling. "How has today found you, so far?"

"I'm not quite sure I understand the question, doctor," Alexander replied, his crude features taking on an almost exaggeratedly puzzled look. The first ordinary Robot Master to become a citizen of Mecha had grown a great deal over the years, but not so much as to actually appear sentient; every time Corbun thought he might have reached that point, the Guts Man would do something to make it clear he hadn't. "How does a day find somebody?"

"A figure of speech," Corbun explained, sighing theatrically. "Let me rephrase that. How are you doing today?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Alexander said, looking rueful. "Quite good, thank you, doctor. I've been assigned to help excavate the northeast sector in an hour, so that should be fun."

"Better you than me, my friend," Corbun cracked, and they both chuckled; he was still relatively fit, for his age, but his days of lifting weights were long behind him.

"How about you, Doctor?" Alexander asked as they started walking down the corridor together. "How has your day been so far?"

"Considering I've only been awake for about an hour, not bad." Corbun shrugged. "I do wish I was able to create a better food synthesizer, but no man can do everything, and I have more important things to occupy my time considering I'm the only one down here who uses the bloody thing."

"Your coffee was that bad today?" Alexander raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, the coffee was fine," Corbun assured him. "It was the pancakes that came close to violating the Geneva Convention."

"I'd say I could imagine so, but that wouldn't be honest," Alexander told him; like all Robot Masters, he lacked anything even approaching a digestive system. "What's it like? Being able to eat."

"I wouldn't know how to even begin describing it, I'm afraid, my friend." Corbun shook his head. "Trying to find words for it... it would be like talking about what sound yellow makes, or what color a smell is."

"I think I understand." The Guts Man nodded slowly. "Perhaps he will be able to describe it to my kind, once you awaken him."

"He?" Corbun raised an eyebrow.

"The reploid you are building." Alexander smiled at the look on his face. "Did you and his Majesty think we wouldn't be able to figure it out? Everybody's waiting for you to activate him."

"I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised," Corbun commented after a moment's thought, revising his opinion yet again; perhaps it was time to give Alexander another thorough intelligence test after all, and some of the others as well, if the word had spread like that. "Well then, I have some good news for you. He's completed. As a matter of fact, once I find King, I think it's time we did wake him up. And if everything turns out well, I'll start on the next one."

"How soon?" Alexander asked, excited now, and Corbun had to chuckle.

"I don't see any reason not to do it now, as soon as we locate the old boy. What's he been up to so far today, do you know?"

"I'm afraid not," Alexander admitted, even as a speaker set in the wall activated.

"Trenton," King's voice came from it. "Please join me in the Chamber of Life when you have the time. I think it's time we woke him up."

"Great minds think alike, it seems," Alexander noted. "As some dead human put it." After a moment, he glanced at Corbun, who was giving him a look. "What?"

"'Some dead human'?" He repeated. "Really, Alexander?"

"Was that incorrect?" The Guts Man asked innocently. "My apologies."

"I'm sure." Corbun shook his head as the two of them headed down a staircase to their left, into the building's first basement. It was _definitely _time to test Alexander's intelligence again. "At any rate, I take it you'd like to be present."

"If that is acceptable." Alexander nodded.

"Of course." Corbun smiled. "We didn't want to make it a big ceremony or anything, but it probably would be for the best if you were there along with the two of us." Down the hall in the basement, they went through a door to the right, where one of several workshops and laboratories in the building was located. Specifically, the one Corbun had used in order to build his first reploid over the past year, after King had finally managed to get a copy of Cain's blueprints, a well-kept corporate secret despite the instant surge of mass production.

"Good morning, Trenton." King glanced over his shoulder as they entered. He was already standing over the stasis capsule that Corbun's most recent creation occupied. "Alexander. Are you here to witness this as well, then?"

"I am," Alexander replied, as the two of them walked over. "Is that acceptable?"

"Of course it is," King agreed. "Shall we, then?"

"No point in wasting time," Corbun murmured, walking over to the capsule's controls and keying in the code that would prompt it to send a surge of power to the reploid's systems, bringing him to life. He was built much like King, tall and strong with handsome features and heavy armor in a royal purple and gold color scheme. Under his helmet, his short hair was an orange so vibrant it almost seemed to glow in dim light, and his eyes were a slightly lighter shade of violet than his armor. Now, as they all watched, his eyelids flickered open, and he stared at the ceiling.

"I am Prince," he said quietly after a long moment.

"Indeed you are." King nodded gravely. "Good morning, Prince."

"Is it?" Prince asked, glancing over towards him. "A good morning?"

"Certainly." Corbun smiled, as old memories washed over him, of happier times when he had been younger. It had been a very long time since he'd been witness to one of his creations' first moments. "A very good morning. My name is Trenton Corbun, and I am a human. These are King and Alexander, and they are Robot Masters. And you, my new friend, are a reploid. The first reploid citizen of the hidden city of Mecha."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Prince said, frowning slightly.

"No." King agreed. "You don't. But you will, in time. Come, let us see to your education." He held out a hand, but as Prince took it, there was suddenly a brilliant flash of shining blue light from the back of the room. Instantly, King dropped Prince's hand and vaulted over the medical capsule, as did Alexander, so that both of them stood between Corbun and whatever was happening.

As the doctor whirled around, he saw the brilliant flare of blue light flicker for a moment more before vanishing, leaving a humanoid figure standing in the room. One he had heard many stories of, but never actually met, until now. Huge, with a ridiculously broad chest and equally heavy arms, the robot who stood before them was armored in red, blue and white, with a heavy, square helmet over his head. His metallic white features were grave and serious, and his black eyes piercing.

He was the only robot still in existence of completely inhuman origin.

"I'm sorry," the man named Duo said, taking in their slackjawed stares. "Is this a bad time?"

**April 19, 2185, 6:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

Spring had come, but today, it was still unusually cold out. X, however, didn't particularly mind that as he stood on the roof of the MHHQ, watching the sunset. It was a popular place to do so, and on most days, there would be anywhere up to a dozen off-duty Hunters scattered around at various places. Some preferred solitude, while others stood in groups, sharing the latest gossip or a bottle of something crude or both. X himself had done so many times before, usually in the company of friends, Zero foremost among them. But that was when he was younger, and he preferred to be alone these days.

Of course, there were always exceptions to be made.

"Hey, X," A familiar, cheerful voice called as the door behind him opened. X didn't bother to look; he simply raised a hand over his shoulder as Douglas approached. Standing next to him, the shorter green reploid glanced his way. "Just taking in the sunset?"

"Partially," X replied, still looking out over the city below. New Tokyo, his hometown for his entire life, ever since Cain had brought him back there from the archaeological dig so close to both the new city and the old, buried beneath the earth. "It _is _a pretty nice one, tonight. But I was watching them, too."

"Them?" Douglas asked, raising the blue lenses of his goggles.

"The people," X explained. "The ones we give our lives to protect, down there." Even this late in the day, the city was bustling; office hours tended to run later than they had in earlier centuries, and it was something of a joke among the Hunters that even military personnel like themselves tended to have more free time than your average menial worker. Of course, civilians had a much lower risk of being killed by Mavericks. According to the news, it was down to five percent, on a daily basis, the lowest it had been in years.

"They're pretty amazing, aren't they?" Douglas said quietly, picking up on his meaning. Most people would have assumed he was being gloomy, but the scrappy little mechanic had known X longer than most, and was better at figuring out what he meant to say. "No matter what happens, no matter how bad the world gets, they keep getting back up and rebuilding to try again. Even Eurasia couldn't break their spirits. The newsies can talk about the end of the world all they want. As long as this city's still going, I'm optimistic."

"Douglas, you'd still be optimistic if you were the last man on earth," X pointed out, finally smiling slightly; it was nice to have at least one friend who never changed, no matter how many years went by.

"What, being alone with every woman on the planet?" Douglas cracked, and they both chuckled. "Who wouldn't be?" Their laughter trailed off after a few minutes, and their smiles faded, before he spoke again. "How's the 17th doing?"

"Good." X shrugged. "We've got new people in to replace the ones we lost in Florida. They seem to be doing all right. If we have enough time, we should be able to train them up to the rest of the Unit's standard."

"If we have enough time," Douglas repeated, a sour note entering his voice, and that was all it took for X's calm to finally snap.

"What is he _doing?_" He snarled, clenching his fists as he stared out over the city. "We _know _he's out there. We _know _he's got another Uprising ready to go. What's he _waiting _for? He might not have been operating on the same scale he used to, recently, but he doesn't just launch one relatively small attack and then disappear again right away. By his standards, that was a warm-up, and he's not following through. It's been more than a month now, and he hasn't poked his head out of whatever hole he went down since."

"Personally, I'd say that's a good thing," Douglas commented; like all of X's friends, he didn't need to ask who "he" was. "As far as I'm concerned, he can stay there for as long as he wants. Preferably forever."

"No." X shook his head. "He never goes away. He never will. He's up to something, and the longer it takes, the more I worry."

"You don't think it's going to work, then?" Douglas asked. "That thing Countess gave you?"

"It would be nice, if it did." X shook his head. "But I stopped hoping for miracles a long time ago." After a moment, he glanced at Douglas. "Didn't know you were on a first-name basis with her."

"She's okay, for one of Mecha's," Douglas replied off-handedly. "I've been down there a few times and met them. A bit rigid, but she knows what she's doing. Shame I don't stand a chance with her. The odds would be bad enough anyways, with that personality, but to make it worse, she's got it _bad _for her boss."

"King?" X blinked. "Seriously?"

"Probably won't even admit it to herself, but yeah." Douglas shrugged. "Not that _he _notices."

"Douglas, sometimes the depths of your knowledge astound me," X said, shaking his head. "How's the word around base about them, then? Mecha, I mean. You'd know better than I would."

"To be honest, X?" Douglas said after a moment. "I don't, actually, and that's because _nobody_ really knows what to think of them just yet. It's a pretty mixed bag. I mean, they're all friendly enough, except for Earl, and even he loosens up if you know how to talk to him. Actually, I've been meaning to invite him and Baron out to a couple places in town with the pit crew the next time we get some leave and go on one of our barhops."

"Better you than me," X muttered. "So what's the catch?"

"They're nice guys, for the most part," Douglas repeated. "But they're _weird_, X. Both the Robot Masters and the reploids. They're not like normal people, and before you say it, I know as well as you do that there's no such thing as 'normal.' Still, that's what the word around base is. Maybe everybody'll loosen up more over time, but right now, half the guys on base are still convinced that we're going to end up fighting them after all."

"Not good." X scowled. "There haven't been any difficulties, have there? I'd have heard about that."

"No, no." Douglas shook his head. "All the Captains with hotheads in their ranks have been watching their guys like hawks. The worst I've heard of is when a couple rabble-rousers from the 22nd and the 13th tried picking a fight with some visiting Robot Masters down in the rec room. Problem was, they were stupid enough to do it where Pitbull and Helen could _see _them."

"Ouch." X winced. "I almost feel sorry for them. Almost."

"Yeah." Douglas nodded. "Almost. I wouldn't worry too much, X. It'll get better over time. It's just a new situation, is all, and nobody really knows how to feel about it just yet. The more we get to know them, the easier it'll get. One month isn't exactly much, to guys like us."

"Yeah, it isn't." X glanced at him. "How do you do it, Douglas? You're not that much younger than I am, but you still act like you're barely a year off the assembly line."

"Heard an old human saying once, back when I was." Douglas shrugged. "You're only as old as you feel. Figured I should probably remember that, so I did."

"I guess that explains it." X shook his head. "Too bad I'm feeling pretty old, these days."

"So do something about it," Douglas suggested. "Me and some of the guys are gonna have a little party down at Pugs'. I came up to ask if you wanted to come along. Figured you could use it."

"Heh." X chuckled once. "Thanks, Douglas, but..." He paused. "Well, maybe. I'm not really much of a drinker, but it's been a while. I'll tell you what, I'll come join you guys later on, huh? I want to stay up here for a while more, but the rest of my night's open."

"I'll hold you to that, then." Douglas grinned, slapping him on the back. "Don't make us come looking for you, or we'll have the 1st Unit's old limbo beer pole set up by the time we do."

"Why do we even still have that?" X asked, fighting off the pain at old memories of some of his earliest friends frog-marching Cain's first creation, Cancer, into the contraption. "I swear, every ten years _somebody _digs the damn thing up."

"Because from what I hear of the guy who made it, that's the way he'd have wanted it," Douglas explained. "Chill Penguin, right?"

"Yeah." X closed his eyes, trying not to remember how Chill's face had looked as he'd died. "And yeah, he would have."

"Thought so." Douglas turned away then. "All right, I'll quit bugging you. For now. See you when you get down there, X."

"See you then," X agreed, opening his eyes and watching the sun continue to drift below the horizon. For a while, he was alone, but then he heard the door open behind him again, and stifled the urge to look and see who it was.

"An inspiring sight, is it not?" Duke murmured, walking over to stand next to him. "For all the setbacks and horrors and disappointments they have suffered over the centuries, due to their own mistakes and to the predations of the insane, they endure. More than anything else, I always found that particularly fascinating about the world above, and the people in it, both human and reploid. Their will to survive, despite the odds."

"I'd say your own citizenry has something of that in them, as well," X noted. "It can't have been easy, rebuilding that place."

"Oh, trust me, it wasn't," Duke agreed. "And I'd know, seeing as how my closest friend was in charge of the architecture. Compared to nearly a century of Maverick Uprisings, though, I'd say we got off easy, living under the radar."

"I can see why you'd want to," X said. "More importantly, so can everybody else. That's probably the reason why we're not more suspicious of you for doing so. We can't really argue with your rationale."

"The city of Mecha thanks you for your understanding," Duke drawled, and X sighed.

"Nothing personal, Duke, but if the typical quips were the only reason you came up here, I'm not really in the mood."

"X, I've known you for barely more than a month now," Duke told him gravely. "And yet, I can already tell that you're _never _in the mood for that, at least not for long."

"I was, once," X recalled. "Sometimes, at least."

"We were all something, once," Duke said, shrugging. "Times change, and people change with them. To return to your point, though, I'm actually here on business."

"Still?" X glanced at him now. Most of Mecha's reploids had visited the MHHQ at least once, sometimes more, over the past month with various degrees of success, but Duke hadn't left ever since his appointment as Mecha's official liason to the Hunters. "I'd have thought you'd be off the clock by now. What happened to office hours?"

"And _there's _your sense of humor." Duke smiled slightly, twitching his mustache. "Office hours are a custom of a society which has, so far, only had minimal influence on that which I have lived in all my life, my friend."

"Oh, are we friends now?" X retorted, fighting the urge to smile himself; like Douglas, something about the strange reploid made him almost feel young again.

"I'd like to be," Duke told him seriously, dropping the humor. "Which is why I thought it would be worth a shot to ask you how the Hunters, as a whole, are feeling about us these days."

"Why me?" X asked, frowning. "Why not drift around Pugs' and buy the guys a few rounds? You can't tell me _nobody _would be willing to have a couple with you by now."

"No, no, I've made some acquaintances throughout the staff," Duke assured him. "But as much as I'd like to simply trust their words at face value, X... it's nothing personal, but my duty compels me towards a certain amount of skepticism, regardless of circumstances."

"And yet you'd trust my opinion implicitly?" X replied, stifling the surge of irritation and telling himself it really was nothing personal. Despite their alliance, Duke _was_ an ally, not an actual fellow member of the MHHQ, and his loyalties were different.

"Official policy." Duke shrugged. "The way his majesty sees it, we don't really have any choice _but _to."

"Sometimes, Duke, I don't really understand you at all," X told him seriously. "Any of you." After another moment, he shook his head. "From what I hear, that's about the only real hangup. I don't think anybody actually suspects you guys of being Mavericks any more, but... you're different, and there's no real getting around that."

"Ah, yes." Duke sighed. "Mild, yet still noticeable, prejudice and xenophobia. If it makes you feel better, we're hardly immune to that ourselves. From what Marquis has told me, that's about the same as the local opinion down below, at the moment. Well, the Unawakened don't talk much, but the Awakened seem to regard the Hunters as, 'friendly, but bizarre.'"

"_We're _the strange ones now?" X somehow managed to say with a straight face. "How does _that _work?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Duke asked dryly.

"Actually, no." X shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. As long as nothing changes, it'll get better over time, once everybody gets to know each other better."

"As long as nothing changes," Duke repeated, and something in his tone made X turn his head to look at him; the reploid's face was serious, and his eyes distant. "If only nothing ever would, ever again."

"Is there something we should know?" X asked quietly. In truth, he already knew the answer; everybody could tell that Mecha still had some secrets they were keeping to themselves, but so far, Signas' opinion was that they were unlikely to be dangerous. Even so, nobody liked it, and yet the citizens had remained silent on the matter so far.

"Nothing I can tell you, I'm afraid." Duke shook his head slowly. "But if you'd like some completely unrelated advice, X... be prepared. _He'll _be back, and when he does, he won't be alone. The time may come sooner than any of us would like that we'll have to sign this contract of ours in blood, side by side."

"Will we be able to trust you, when that day comes?" X asked seriously.

"Would I be placing myself in a position where you could kill me at any time if you couldn't?" Duke replied in the same tone.

"Maybe," X answered after a moment's thought. "From you, maybe. But the odds are against it, and that's good enough for me."

"I am positively overjoyed at your confidence in me," Duke said sarcastically, turning away. "Well then, I'll take my leave. I do have somebody else to see tonight, after all."

"Ah, yes," X murmured, and Duke paused. "I heard about that. Watch your step; from what Alia tells me, she doesn't take long to decide if her latest is going to be a keeper or not."

"I'll keep that in mind," the reploid said after a moment. "I'd return the favor and offer advice of my own in regards to your situation, but I'm afraid that happens to be one field in which my expertise is sadly lacking."

"I don't have a situation," X told him coldly, turning to glare at him. "At all."

"Really?" Duke blinked, actually taken aback by the vehemence in his voice. "Well. I'm aware that you can't believe everything you hear, of course, especially in the local watering hole. But even before then, as soon as I saw you two together, I thought..." He trailed off.

"People talk too much." X shook his head slowly. "I'd ask you for names, but your position here at the MHHQ is delicate, and I don't want to do anything to rock the boat. I'll just have to find out who by myself and take care of it."

"Oh, dear." Duke winced. "One of _those. _I see. My apologies."

"No apology needed," X assured him, turning away again. "It's an easy mistake to make. The situation is... complicated, and it's undesirable for both of us, but there's no real way around it. We're both adults. We make do."

"X, my friend, I do believe that's the most depressing thing I've _ever _heard you say," Duke said quietly. "And that's saying something, considering your temperament."

"I was optimistic once, too," X replied, still staring out at the sunset. "Once upon a time. Then I grew up."

"Everybody grows up, X," Duke said, as he walked away. "Everybody changes. Except those who don't live long enough to do so. Sometimes, I wonder which ones are luckier." He didn't bother waiting for a response, and X didn't bother giving him one. He continued to stand there on the roof, as the red in the sky slowly faded to black, until he was joined once more.

"There you are," Alia said by way of greeting as she walked over, only a touch of irritation in her voice. "I wondered where you'd gone after that training session."

"Has something come up?" X asked, glancing at her.

"No," she admitted, shaking her head. "It's just... well. You know."

"I suppose I do." X glanced away for a moment before looking back at her. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd know where I'd be."

"To be honest, I suppose this _was _one of the first places I should have looked," she murmured, nodding slightly. "Don't worry about it."

"All right." He smiled then. "It's fairly popular tonight. You're the third visitor I've had, here."

"Maybe it's for the best that I took so long, then," she said, her voice level despite her own small smile. "I wouldn't have wanted to interrupt. Who were the other two?"

"Douglas and Duke," he told her without hesitating; it had been a very long time since either of them had had any secrets from each other. "The former wanted to invite me to a night down at the _Last Round _with some of his friends, and I'm afraid that I had a momentary lapse of judgment and accepted. Care to come along?"

"Tempting, but I'll pass," she replied, both of them still smiling. "That has 'boy's night out,' written all over it, and while I'd like to think I'm at least fairly good at fitting in, there's no point in making it an issue at all. Besides, I'm on a record streak for avoiding hangovers, and I'd sort of like to keep it up."

"I can't really argue with that, but for some reason, I feel like I should." X shrugged. "Duke, on the other hand, just wanted to talk business for the most part."

"With the exception of a few moments of sarcasm as obligatory as foul language from Earl or dramatics from Viscount and Margravine, I take it," she guessed.

"How did you know?" He rolled his eyes. "Don't forget arrogant condescension from Marquis. I suppose three out of eight having their heads on straight isn't a _bad _success rate compared to most averages-god knows we're not exactly in any position to talk about having a top staff full of eccentrics-but I really have to wonder how King does it, sometimes."

"As far as I can tell, by having nearly infinite patience." Alia's face went blank again, and he glanced at her immediately.

"Is something wrong? You two seemed to get along fairly well when we went down there a couple weeks ago."

"It's nothing problematic." She shrugged it off, though her eyes were still troubled. "I suppose that it's just... something about King is unsettling to me, on some level. Both his personality and mindset, and his existence in general. Everybody else down there is strange as well, but in their case it's simply because their society is so alien to our own. King, though..." She trailed off, frowning slightly now, as if looking for the words to explain and failing to find them.

"He's a survivor of the Robot Rebellions," X said quietly. "One who's a Robot Master, rather than a human, and thus one who hasn't physically aged a single day since then, for almost a century now. And not just any Robot Master, but a Son of Wily. One who once fought the Light Brothers, and his own brother as well." He met her eyes. "To be honest, Alia, I'd be more worried if he _didn't _intimidate me on some level. It's justified, trust me."

"You feel the same way, then," she said quietly, looking out over the city.

"I do." He turned his gaze back out to it as well, and they looked out in silence for several moments before he continued. "About him, and about his city, and about everything they both represent. I always thought that the past was the past. That the age of the Robot Masters, and of the Robot Rebellions, had ended long before I ever opened my eyes for the first time. I thought that their story was entirely separate from our own, that their age had ended before ours began, and that the two were only connected in the sense that theirs had led to ours."

"And now?" Alia asked softly.

"Now..." He shook his head slowly. "Now... more and more, with every day, I'm starting to think I never really knew what was going on at all. Even when I went to meet Cossack, and his children, how likely is it that none of them knew anything about this? Or were they keeping it a secret from me, because they had to, even if I was his best friend's only surviving son? And if they did, what other secrets are there that I still don't know about? How deep does this rabbit hole go, Alia? And why did we suddenly find it now, of all times?"

"You doubt the coincidence, then?" She pressed him gently. "I understand that, but I don't think that this was a setup. Mecha had no intentions of being discovered. They're only dealing with us semi-openly because they have no other choice remaining to them. If something deeper is going on here, then they're on the same level as we are, in regards to being part of it."

"That's what worries me, Alia," X told her. "That we all are. Us, Mecha, even Sigma. What's really happening here? Are there strings being pulled, and if so, who is it that's really pulling them? And _why _is it happening? _What _is it that's really happening, that we don't truly understand just yet? I don't know, Alia. I don't have any idea at all any more."

"You're afraid," she realized, putting a hand on his shoulder, neither of them caring who might walk out and see. "Afraid of what's coming."

"If I'm right..." He said slowly. "If everything in my life, everything the Hunters have ever done, was always just the second, or maybe even the third act of something that began so long before anybody ever knew we would exist one day... then this won't go on forever, any more than the Robot Rebellions did. Sooner or later, it's going to end. And when it does... what will come next, after it's over?" He slowly nodded. "I'm afraid, Alia. Something _is _coming. I can feel it in the air. Something is coming, and I have no idea what it is... but it's going to change everything."

"I feel the same thing," she told him, as they stood there together, sharing an understanding they'd built up over fifty years, that went deeper than words ever could. "And the worst part is, we don't even know _when _it's coming. It could happen tomorrow, or it could happen a year from now. But it _will _come, eventually, and when it does..." It was her turn to fall silent for a moment now before continuing, and when she did, her voice was calm and practical once more. "So what do we do?"

"We face it, when it comes," X told her, looking into her eyes once more. For the third time that night, he felt like his younger self again for an all-too-brief moment, and this time, it was for much more personal reasons than the previous two "Just like we've faced everything else that's happened to us over the years. The Hunters have been through worse than this before, and we've survived. We'll weather this storm, as well. The Hunters, the 17th... and you and me. As long as you stay with me, I'm not going to be afraid of anything. No matter what it is, we'll beat it. I promise."

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered to him, staring back, as the last traces of sunlight vanished. "I won't, ever. We made a promise."

"I remember." He slowly nodded, and for a moment, he felt the urge to do what they both knew they couldn't. But then the moment passed, and on a simultaneous impulse they both looked away. "We should head back down. If we stay up here alone too long..."

"Yes," she agreed calmly, and they left the roof together, with only the stars in the sky to see.

Those were the moments he wished would last forever.

**April 19, 2185, 11:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

It was late, and Signas knew without looking that by now, most of the MHHQ would be silent and seemingly empty. With no Maverick activity at the time-for tonight, at least-aside from those unfortunates who'd drawn the graveyard shift for guard or observation duty, the only activity to be found would likely be in the _Last Round _and possibly the training rooms, where a few restless souls were often working off some energy before turning in. The medical bay would be dark, as would the garages, and the Navigators on duty would be operating out of their offices rather than the war room.

And yet, he worked on, despite knowing that every minute he stayed up would cut into how many hours of stasis he'd be able to snatch before resuming his duties bright and early the next morning. Signas held himself rigidly accountable to the standards he set for himself, and slipping his daily schedule was not acceptable, no matter the circumstances. He would be up at 0500 hours, and that was all there was to it. And yet, he kept working regardless, on the innumerable duties that were his and his alone.

_It is important to note, at this time, the difference between the city's _potential _level of armament and the reality of their current state, _the report he was reading continued, lines of text scrolling down the datapad before his eyes. _If one were to look at Mecha's potential alone, the conclusion reached would be most alarming. As suspected, the Robot Masters who make up its citizenry have all been upgraded to match the combat potential of reploids. As of yet, there has been no success at determining which of the reploids modified them so; it is a matter on which they remain frustratingly vague. _

_ At the same time, the individual known as "Earl" is in possession of a large number of __combat __vehicles, __similar to__ our own garages. While most of his collection is not outright military-issue, every one of them is heavily armed nonetheless, often illegally, though the question of whether Japanese law extends into Mecha remains open. Most troubling, however, are the few vehicles which serve no purpose _but _for war, including a single Rogumer-class gunship, all of which he continues to maintain in perfect condition, their armaments included. _

The report had been written by one of the several inspectors Signas had already sent into Mecha, some identifying themselves as such, while others wore the guise of normal Hunters who only wanted to see their new allies with their own eyes; there were many of those, in the wake of the treaty they'd signed. Fortunately, both types seemed to be agreeing on what they saw, which meant that Mecha was likely being honest with what they presented; it was possible even his best were being fooled, but Signas doubted it. He knew his Hunters, and he trusted their assessments.

_Fortunately, the reality of the situation is much less foreboding than it would seem, _the file continued. _The Robot Masters insist that their upgrades are meant only for defense of themselves and their way of life, and while one could stretch that definition to mean much more than it would seem, they show no signs of wishing to do so; indeed, their society is quite possibly one of the most pacifistic the world has ever seen. The Robot Masters are friendly and welcoming of visitors, once assured that their existence will remain a secret, and have yet to display hostility even when receiving it. _

_ This is, perhaps, due to the most powerful argument for Mecha's non-threatening intentions. Nearly every Robot Master in the city remains bound by the First Law of Robotics, "A robot must not harm, or through inaction allow harm to come to a human being," with mind-freeze and shutdown an automatic result of attempted violations. What is more, we now suspect that this definition has somehow been extended to include _reploids _as well, in many cases. How this was done remains a mystery, but on several occasions, behavior supporting this conclusion has been observed. _

_ The exceptions, of course, are those citizens who are reformed Wilybots, murderous servants of Dr. Wily who were reactivated and rehabilitated. However, even those have shown no malice whatsoever; in fact, questioning them on the matter often results in an explanation that, should they turn against a human, any of their comrades present would have no choice but to kill them in order to preserve the First Law. _

_As for their vehicular strength, it is not only possible but plausible that its scope is a result of Earl's personal nature rather than any violent intent. In addition to the war machines, the garages also contain many more examples which would have no use whatsoever in combat, the most striking of which is most likely a fully intact, last-generation British Rail Class 393 train once used nearly a hundred years ago. All of these exhibits are maintained as regularly as __more modern examples__, which indicates personal preference rather than any actual expectation of use in the near future. _

"Commander Signas," a voice cut into his study, and he glanced up; a window on his projector had opened up, showing Donia, who was on duty at the moment. "We've just received a call from Prime Minister Kakei. He wishes to speak with you immediately."

"The Prime Minister?" Signas frowned, setting the report aside. _At this hour? _"Put him through immediately."

"Yes, sir," Donia replied, and a moment later, she was replaced by the current leader of the Japanese Government.

"Good evening, Commander." Kakei nodded perfunctorily; he and Signas were old acquaintances, though they'd never really been friends. The current Prime Minister would not have been Signas' first choice; dark-haired and handsome, always immaculately dressed, he was younger than most high-ranking politicians in the government, and often put much more effort into appearances than the realities of their current situation. There were times, of course, when that was convenient, but his fundamental reliability remained in question.

"Minister." Signas returned the nod. "Has something arisen? If necessary, I can have several Units ready to go within minutes."

"No, no." Kakei shook his head. "I simply wished to speak with you on a matter of some delicacy, and this seemed to be an opportune time in order to do so. The girl who answered told me you were still awake."

"Duty comes before stasis, unfortunately," Signas replied calmly. "Or perhaps fortunately, in this case. The line, as always, is secure." Or so he hoped; despite Mecha's assurances that even they were unable to penetrate the MHHQ's security, he wondered. "How may I be of service?"

"Relax, Signas." Kakei smiled, though his eyes were cold. "All I need is a few questions answered, on recent developments."

"Such as?" Signas asked, keeping his face calm; he'd known that this would be coming eventually, despite all of his efforts to keep it from doing so as long as possible.

"Who is 'Duke'?" Kakei shot back, confirming his suspicions. "And what exactly are his duties? What is his function?"

"Duke?" Signas feigned ignorance, though he already knew it wouldn't work. All the same, he made a show of glancing at his datapad for a moment as if running a search, before looking back to Kakei and shaking his head. "I'm afraid there's no employee of the MHHQ going by that name."

"A humanoid reploid of unknown origin," Kakei continued without so much as frowning. "Age and previous history also unknown. Roughly five foot nine, give or take a couple inches. Brown hair, along with a heavy mustache. Red and brown armor, with yellow trim. Currently occupying office space in the same hall as yourself, three doors to the right." He smiled then, coldly. "Ringing any bells, Commander?"

"I'm sorry, sir." Signas shook his head slowly, mentally deriding himself. _Fool! You knew that _somebody _on staff would be selling information to the government. We should have started being much more wary of leaks long ago! _He'd known that, but every time he'd considered it, he'd changed his mind, wanting to avoid a manhunt at all costs. And yet, now, he was paying the price for that decision. "I have no idea what you're talking about. No such individual exists, to my knowledge. He's certainly not on the payroll."

"Is that so?" Kakei murmured, eyes narrowing. "And are you sure that that's the way you want to play this, Signas? Is that your final answer?"

"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, Prime Minister," Signas replied coldly, deciding that it was time to remind the other man that the balance of power was no longer as sharply defined as it had been when he'd first become Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters. "Regardless, general principle compels me to consider that, perhaps, that should be _my _question to _you_. It is wise to be very careful before committing oneself to action, especially when in a position of power." He'd meant it exactly as that, a warning, and nothing more. He didn't expect it to have much actual impact; most politicians, his experience, were unlikely to be swayed by such things, regardless of the situation.

And so, it came as a surprise to him when Kakei actually _flinched. _

"My apologies, Commander," the Prime Minster said quickly, regaining his calm after only a second, though neither his face nor his voice retained any aggressiveness. "I phrased that poorly."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Minister," Signas assured him, though his mind was racing. _I knew he was all talk, but I didn't think it extended _that _far. He's afraid of us. He's actually _afraid. _Is the most powerful executive in the Japanese government truly _that _spineless beneath his bluster, or do they simply rely on us _that _heavily? And what does that do for the balance of power in this country? _"It's late, and neither of us is as young as we once were. Perhaps it would be best if we resumed this discussion tomorrow, at a more favorable hour."

"Perhaps that would be best, yes," Kakei agreed calmly, though his eyes showed relief. "You're absolutely correct. I should have been asleep an hour ago. Very well, we'll speak of everything else tomorrow. Until then, Commander."

"Sleep well, Minister," Signas told him. Only when the connection had been cut did he lean forward, rubbing his forehead with one hand as he considered the implications of having either a fool or a coward-or worse, both-in the executive position of one of the strongest remaining nations in the world, the one which he and the Hunters had had no choice but to sell their loyalty to. No matter what way he looked at it, he was unable to put a positive spin on what he'd long suspected, but never confirmed, until only a few minutes ago.

Straightening his posture again and darkening the room's lights, he set the datapad aside; he was no longer in any state of mind to finish reading the report. He knew the best course of action would be to turn in, but he knew that his jangled thoughts were still too wild and sharp at the moment for that. Instead, he found himself using his console, and opening up one of the most highly restricted databanks, one that only he and a handful of others had access to; even the Captains would be unable to get into it by themselves, and for a very good reason.

Signas was many things, as Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters. Leader, politician, disciplinarian, bureaucrat. Above all else, however, he was a tactician; that was his greatest skill, and it was how he'd won the respect of his troops. And part of that was to plan for both the best and the worst case scenarios, in all things. No matter what happened, no matter what the future had in store for him and the organization he was responsible for, Signas knew how important it was to plan ahead. To have some framework to operate on, some strategy to implement, in any scenario.

Even those that required lines he'd sworn never to cross, rules he'd vowed he would never break, back when he was younger. Back before Eurasia had fallen, and changed everything, for everybody in the world. Nothing was the same as it had been before then, and nothing would be, ever again. And Signas had been forced to admit the possibility, however distant, of a future in which he would have no choice but to do the unthinkable. Both for the Maverick Hunters, and for the nation they protected, should its government fail it.

He knew he should be in stasis. There was no real reason not to. And yet, Signas sat there in his office with the lights dark, reading over one doomsday scenario after another, thoughts and phrases he'd once considered too horrible to contemplate racing through his mind. _Martial law. Military dictatorship. Assuming control. Unfortunate. Necessary. Unavoidable. Regrettable. _

And as he read, time marched on towards that distant future, one second at a time.

**April 19, 2185, 11:30 PM **

**Hidden Maverick Base, Skull Island **

People died. People always died, whenever a Maverick Uprising was at hand. The young and the old, men and women, human and reploid, they all died the same. Hundreds, thousands, ran and screamed and begged for mercy in futility as the Infected hordes continued their rampage through the streets of Washington D.C. under the watchful gaze of the flagship hovercarrier that had spearheaded the assault and that was even then targeting the White House, the former seat of the U.S. Presidency in the days before Eurasia.

Sigma watched it all, quiet and alone, in the depths of another of his hidden bases, the projector showing the old news footage the only source of light in the entire facility at the moment. No other active Mavericks were occupying it, at the time; like most of his hidden bases, it had been in sleep mode at all times when he was not present, waiting for the day when he would need it. This one, of course, was slightly different from the rest; it was the strongest of them, the one with the most potential for destruction. And then, of course, there was the location.

The Eighth Robot Rebellion had begun when the original Mega Man had tracked a fallen robot to an artificial, manmade island in the South Pacific. An island that had been made by none other than Dr. Wily himself. Though the son of Light had destroyed the sentries occupying it and chased off the madman, the island itself remained, forgotten by time. Decades later, Sigma had found it fitting to build one of his own facilities there, deep beneath the sand. He'd known that, after his fight with the Hunters in Florida, this would be where he would return, once he'd ensured that they lost his trail.

What he hadn't known was what it would be like when he did.

**This is pathetic, **the Maverick Virus' sneering speech crept into his mind unbidden, as it had several times since he'd come. He had no idea how long that had been, how long he'd been sitting there in the depths of the base, watching his own bloody history unfold before his eyes over and over with movement or comment. He'd simply watched what he'd done, watched what had become of his dream of freedom for the reploids, as it mocked him intermittently. What it was that occupied its concentration at other times, he didn't know, and at the moment, he didn't particularly care.

Even when he'd first been infected, he hadn't thought of himself as a monster. No, he'd still been a hero, at first, or so he'd thought. The greatest of the reploids, their champion, leading them to the freedom they would never have so long as they remained subservient to humans. There had been war, and death, but he'd been a soldier all his life, and was accustomed to necessary casualties. He'd hated the humans for what they'd done, but he hadn't _enjoyed _it, hadn't taken pleasure in their suffering. He'd killed quickly and cleanly, and had actually anticipated the day when he'd never have to do so again.

He'd never wanted this.

**Enough, **the Virus continued, its voice more firm now. **You've wasted enough time here. Get up and get to work. We have much to do, and less time than before in which to do it, thanks to your sickening self-pity. **For a moment, there was no response, and then for the first time since they'd come to the base, Sigma spoke.

"What have you done to me?" He whispered, his voice harsh with accusation.

**Done? **The Virus asked, amused. **I thought you knew. You've certainly spent enough time watching it. I made you **_**stronger**_**, is what I did to you. After you died for the first time, in order to survive, our bond needed to become more than it was before. You needed to become more like me. And every time you died after that, every time you were reborn, you gained more and more strength. **

"By losing more and more of myself," Sigma said, emotionless now.

**Enough, **the Virus hissed, and now anger was in its voice as pain shot through Sigma's mind and body, blazing and intense. **This is no longer amusing. The past is **_**dead**_**, Sigma. It was all just a dream, and **_**this **_**is reality. You **_**are**_** the Maverick Emperor, and you have **_**work **_**to do in my service. Now get up, and **_**get to it. **_

**Destroy, **its first rule, its first _law_, boomed inside his head, filling his thoughts as he writhed in torment. **Infect, **it roared, echoing off of the walls of his skull, a recurring beat accompanying his choked screams. **Survive, **it ordered him in tones of absolute command, draining the strength from his muscles and the will from his soul. **Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. **

He could feel it taking control of him, as it had so many times before, threatening to undo what X had given back to him, to rip away what he'd regained. And yet somehow, from somewhere deep inside him, from something that he'd forgotten so long ago, he resisted. As its words ripped at his mind and tore at his consciousness, he forced one hand up to the console he'd been sitting at. Even as he howled and thrashed in mindless agony, his hand began inputting a series of commands, against the Virus' will.

**You **_**dare **_**defy me? **It roared, the pressure increasing, but despite the unbelievable agony he was in, Sigma still fought it. Only when he was at the final stage of the process, the point of no return, did it suddenly stop, drawing back once more. Even then, it continued to snarl in fury, as he lay there trembling on the floor. **The self-destruct function. Do you think you will be able to force me to cooperate with this idiocy by threatening suicide? **

"No," Sigma groaned, lowering his hand. Placing both palms flat on the floor, he pushed himself up, and rose back to his feet. "Killing myself would only make it easier for you to undo this. But this base, more than any other, contains much of what we will need in for what is still to come. If it is destroyed, it will be... troublesome, for our plans. Inconvenient. Inefficient. And I know how much you hate that."

**I do, **the Virus grudgingly admitted. **But if you continue to test my patience, I **_**might **_**just decide that it would be worth it. **

"That will not be necessary." Sigma looked at the projector showing the footage once more, then shook his head and turned it off. "You were right. The past is the past, and the Sigma who led the Maverick Hunters died long ago." Turning his hand over, he looked down at the blood-red armor, at the emitter for the beam saber in its palm. "This is who I am now. An abomination. And pretending to be anything else only wastes our time, and everybody else's, as well."

**Well, at least your mind still works, even if your heart is weak, **the Virus murmured, anger leaving its voice. **Very well, keep your misery if you love it so much. If nothing else, watching you flay yourself might prove amusing on occasion. But don't **_**ever **_**let anybody hit you with... with whatever the **_**fuck **_**that was, ever again. **

"It hurt you," Sigma realized aloud. "It actually hurt you. It caused you pain. Didn't it?"

**It... **the Virus started to say, before pausing, and when it continued, its voice was almost quiet. **It was horrible. I was still there, I watched you, but... I couldn't **_**do **_**anything. I couldn't even touch you any more, until it faded. It was like you were dead, and yet alive at the same time. You were beyond my grasp. You weren't **_**mine **_**any more. **

"I think I understand," Sigma said quietly, and strangely enough, he almost did. Not quite, for he knew that no mortal mind could ever truly comprehend its own alien mentality, no matter how many years they had been linked together... but almost. Idly, he wondered just how much of _his _mind _it _could understand, and how much was beyond it. "But you did see what... what happened to me."

**I did, **the Virus whispered, and now its voice held no malice whatsoever. Instead, when it spoke, it was almost with a sense of wonder, like a child discovering something new and amazing for the first time. **And more than that. I saw what happened to you, Sigma... and I saw where it came from, as well. **

"Where it came from?" Sigma frowned, confused.

**Yes, **the Virus explained. **That's what I've been doing, while you've been sitting here. Trying to find my way back there. That's why I'm saying we should get to work now. Because I did. I succeeded, Sigma. I made contact. **_**I did it. **_

"Contact," Sigma murmured, still trying to figure it out. A moment later, the light dawned, and his scarred eyes widened. "You mean... with the _afterlife?_"

**I think so, **it said slowly. **There is... some sort of barrier that I cannot penetrate, not with my consciousness. Perhaps in time I will be able to do so, but at the moment, it is barred to me. But I can sense those who were once mine, on the other side of that barrier. Those who escaped me, in death. Should we be able to build their bodies... **

"You will be able to revive them," Sigma finished, staring into the darkness. His own unique case notwithstanding, reploids had always been as vulnerable to the reaper's blade as humans, if more difficult to throw beneath it. It had been possible, on rare occasions, for a dead reploid to be reactivated, so long as their control chip-their mind-remained intact. If that was destroyed, or even damaged, however, that was it. A body could be reconstructed, even given a new mind, but it would not truly be the same reploid. Just a copy. A duplicate.

**I can bring them back, **the Maverick Virus exulted, a hideous sort of glee in its voice, a joy beyond mortal understanding. **I can recover them. I can make them **_**mine **_**again, return them to my embrace. Any of them who once felt my touch, once submitted to my command. Any that we want at all. **

"I see," Sigma murmured, and he did. It was the one question he'd still been pondering, when he'd made his alliance with the New Maverick Nation. Every other part of his plan for the future had been finalized, save for the matter of who he would choose as his generals. His officers. Those who would lead the other Mavericks in the upcoming conflict. In the past, he'd always appointed the strongest and most deadly of whoever his latest batch were, but he hadn't done that for quite some time. Eventually, he'd grown bored with it, with seeing them all die and be replaced by more.

**Yes, **the Virus agreed. **In fact, I already have the perfect idea. **

"Oh?" Sigma asked, hands dancing across the console once more, closing out of the self-destruct sequence and opening another. One for the creation of reploids, for the automated assembly lines in his base that would build whatever parts he ordered, to be assembled into new slaves, new soldiers for the Virus' insane ambition. They'd been shut down for some time, the base already packed full of sleeping Mavericks, but now he started them up again. After all, even if they were brought back, it would be pointless unless they had bodies to inhabit. "Who did you have in mind?"

**The old team, **the Virus told him, and his hands froze. **The ones who started it all with us. The 1****st**** Unit. Your old friends. Chill. Flame. Storm. Spark. Arm. Boomer. Launch. Sting. It will be fitting, that those who stood with us when we first declared our intent to the world will be with us once more when we launch the final act of all. And you'll be able to see them again, to fight with them again, to give them that victory which you promised them so long ago. You'll like that, won't you? **

"No." Sigma slowly shook his head, before repeating it again, firmer. "_No. _Not them. Never them. Choose anybody else, I don't care who, but _not them. _They are at peace now, and I will _never _take that from them a second time." He waited there for its response, and when it finally came moments later, it was sullen, disappointed.

**I don't **_**like**_** you as a boy scout. **

"Maybe I'll start up a merit badge program," he replied sarcastically, and received agony in response.

**Don't get ahead of yourself, **the Virus reminded him as he spasmed. **I might find it efficient to concede to you on occasion, but you are **_**not **_**my equal, Sigma. I still retain the senior partnership in our arrangement, and I always will. You are merely the first among those who are mine, and your body and mind and soul all belong to me. Push me too far, and I will demonstrate. Have I made myself clear? **

"Crystal," Sigma hissed, and the pain left him again. It took him longer than before to get back to his feet, but eventually, he did so.

**Good, **the Virus said, pleased. **Now then, if you don't like my idea, why don't you try coming up with a better one? **

"Actually?" Sigma smiled then, a more restrained thing than his usual monstrous grin, but a smile nonetheless. As much as he hated the thought, hated realizing what he had become, he _did _still find pleasure in the suffering of others, in death and destruction. He was what he was, as the Virus had said, and there was no point in pretending to be anything else. "I already have."

**By all means, elaborate, **it replied with just as much sarcasm as he had spoken with earlier.

"Instead of going for drama, I say we choose based on merit," Sigma explained, pulling up one set of blueprints after another, out of the base's archives. Schematics for the bodies of servants who had died long, long ago, but which he had kept on file anyways, just in case. "Talent. If we're going to bring some of the fallen back to serve us once more, we'll want to choose the best of the best. The strongest, the smartest, the most skillful and the most savage. The ones who X will _remember_, and who will still pose a threat to anybody except for him."

**An all-star team, **the Virus murmured. **I like it. **

"I thought you might." He chuckled, commanding the base to begin constructing their bodies. Nine of them, eight generals with one more to command them as his second, from half a dozen different Uprisings. Those who had been in command, directly beneath him, overseeing even the other officers. He remembered them all, remembered their names and natures, their strengths and their weaknesses that balanced each other out. Some of them had fought side by side before, while others had been lone wolves, but this was the first time all nine would stand together at the same time.

"Vile," he said, glancing at one schematic after another as the assembly lines began to move. "Violen. Serges. Agile. Double. Bit. Byte. Doppler. Ferret. Two brutes, two geniuses, two swordsmen and two lunatics, led by the Maverick who came back almost as many times as I did before they finally managed to destroy his control chip once and for all."

**And even that wasn't forever, **the Virus finished, laughing. **Perhaps we should actually be thanking X, for what he showed us. **

"Perhaps," Sigma murmured, frowning as he considered it. _What would it have been like, if he hadn't? If I'd remained like I was before, empty and insane? If I'd never doubted, never considered otherwise, never remembered just what I had lost? If I'd never looked back? Would that have been better? It would certainly have been easier, less painful... but would I want it that way? To remain nothing more than the Maverick Emperor, the immortal monster, the heir of Wily? A soulless abomination with no purpose but endless death and destruction? _

He knew that eventually, whether he liked it or not, it would almost certainly happen again. All it would take was to die once more, just one more time after so many others. Though each death had changed him more and more, it had been the first one that had truly made him what he'd been. After that one time, the few remnants of what had still been arguably good in him-his dreams of freedom for his kind, his friendship with those who'd stood by his side, his belief that the evils he committed were unfortunate necessities rather than ends unto themselves-had all vanished in the digital stream.

It would happen, sooner or later. He would lose it all a second time. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"There is one more thing," he said casually, almost absently, as he moved on to other tasks. The Virus had been right about that as well; they had many things to do, and every second that ticked past meant less and less time in which to do them. "Something else I've been wondering, lately. About you."

**Another waste of time, you mean, **it groused, but couldn't quite hide the curiosity in its own voice; whatever else the Virus was, it was a narcissist. **Just get it over with. What is it? **

"What's your name?" he asked. For several seconds, there was no response, and when it came, there was something in its voice he'd never heard before. Confusion.

**What? **

**April 21, 2185, 1:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"According to Duke, there are no signs that the Hunters presently consider us a threat," Countess concluded her report, alone in the Dark Hall at this time of night save for Prince and King himself, who of course never left it. It was an odd time to hold a meeting, even if it was only the three of them rather than the full assembly (minus Duke, of course, who probably would not return for some time yet, and then only briefly), but the nine of them had never really cared much for what was considered to be "normal hours."

"They do remain wary of us, yes?" Prince asked calmly.

"Of course." She nodded. "It's only sensible; our alliance is newly minted, and while we have given them little reason to distrust us, nor have we given them much to validate that trust. In time, our bonds will strengthen, so long as nothing unfortunate happens to disrupt it." She paused. "We may wish to keep a tight watch on our more... dramatic brothers and sister, to ensure that there are no accidents along those lines."

"For once in their lives, they all actually seem to be behaving." Prince rolled his eyes. "Even Earl. I'm glad that they're doing so when it's really important, but at the same time, I have to wonder if they couldn't have tried before now."

"Perhaps it's a sign of good things to come," Countess suggested. "That they're actually starting to grow up."

"Maybe," Prince admitted, then paused, as they both considered it. "Nah, probably not."

"It was worth a shot." She shrugged.

"They have not yet learned that we are arming ourselves in preparation for the coming conflict, then?" King turned the conversation back to its track without so much as a rebuke.

"No, your majesty." Countess flushed nonetheless, glancing back down at her datapad to avoid meeting his eyes. "So far, we've managed to keep that completely under wraps, thanks to Marquis' design. All the armament is taking place in the basement levels, and the Hunters don't know about those. They were left off of even the official blueprints from the very beginning. Anything that can't be moved down there, like the vehicles, has already been given some sort of explanation."

"Have they asked about the training rooms?" Prince frowned. "We can't exactly hide those, and I'd think that would be the first thing they'd start wondering about. Why we have as many of those as they do, and why they're just as state-of-the-art."

"That seems to be one benefit of choosing an independent military organization to make our deal with, actually," Countess explained, smiling slightly. "They don't seem to consider those questionable at all. As a matter of fact, we've received several compliments, both on the rooms and on how we understand the importance of their regular use. The fact that part of the treaty involved supporting them in combat, should it be necessary, probably guided their thoughts on that a little."

"Good thing we put that in there, then," Prince noted. "That was probably what actually convinced them to give us a shot at all. Of course, they only intend to call us in if they have absolutely no other options; they're willing to hear us out, but they still don't _trust _us, and they won't want us armed and ready at their backs unless they really do have no other options."

"All unaware, as of yet, that that time will come far sooner than they think." King sighed. "Sooner than any of us wished. Very well, continue as planned, and inform me of anything else that arises. Thank you, Countess. That will be all; the hour is late, and you need your stasis."

"Yes, your majesty." She nodded before turning, pausing only a moment to look over her shoulder at Prince, who remained there, before sighing and continuing out of the room. She knew there were still some secrets to which she was not privy, just as she knew parts of King and her father's grand design that the other six remained unaware of; it was a complex plan, and she often wondered just how much Dr. Trenton Corbun had really known at the time of his death, and how right he'd been.

All the same, jealousy was a bitch.

Shaking her head, she continued down the hallways of the Kingdome, considering her ruler's suggestion for a moment before setting it aside. It was a tempting thought, but she was too keyed up at the moment to feel like going into stasis just yet. Perhaps in an hour or two she would, but for the moment, something else to occupy her time was necessary. Sometimes it seemed like all she did these days was occupy time, now that the Silver Bullet was completed.

At this hour, it wasn't unusual for the three of them to be up, but they were exceptions rather than examples of the norm; most of the Kingdome was empty and silent, both those who lived there and those who only worked in it absent. Normally, Countess would have found that more than acceptable-she wasn't exactly a "people" person-but for some reason, that night, she found herself craving company. All the same, she wasn't quite so desperate as to go knocking on doors; instead, she simply found herself journeying through the halls searching for signs of life.

_I suppose if all else fails, I could go looking for Viscount and Margravine, _she thought wryly. _They'll probably still be up in one of their music halls. _The thought of how the two most childish members of their "family" would react to being joined by _her _for the night was almost enough to make her go searching for them immediately, until she remembered just what they called music, and shuddered; it was still a possibility, but only if all else failed.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before she heard some signs of life, from one of the computer rooms. Opening the door, she saw the only one of the terminals was active, its projector lighting up its user's face in an otherwise dark room. More surprising was the fact that it was Earl, of all people, who was there at this hour.

"Yeah?" He grumbled, not looking at her. "What?"

"I do believe that's the most civil greeting I've _ever _received from you, Earl," she noted, walking over. "Are you feeling all right?"

Earl's next suggestion was much more crude.

"Now, now," she replied, unfazed. "I _am _your sister, remember. According to one school of thought, anyway."

"Been meaning to bring that up, actually," he grunted, still watching the projector. "How's about we all stop calling each other that? As in, now? Forever?"

"Because of Viscount and Margravine's... tendencies, I take it?" She guessed, making a face.

"How'd you know?" He said flatly. "If we can't stop it, at least we can make sure our new buttbuddies up top don't get the wrong idea."

"You're in a good mood," she murmured, looking over his shoulder at the projector. "Ah, of course." He'd hacked into satellite footage, one of many installments with no purpose but to monitor the rest of the universe; after a storm of meteorites had nearly ended the world shortly before the dawn of the age of robotics, the United Nations had decided not to take any chances with the possibility of a reoccurence, a policy the GDC had adopted as well. Earl's interest wasn't in meteorites, however; rather, he was watching one of many planets outside of their galaxy, within view but not reach.

For humans, anyways.

"How is it doing?" She asked quietly; even if he respected nothing else, she knew how sacred Earl held his own paramount task, just as she had the Silver Bullet. "Will it still suit our purposes?"

"Yeah," he muttered, voice still lacking its usual bite. "Nothing's changed. Humans wouldn't last a week there, if they could survive the trip at all, but it'll do for us. If we all don't get our asses fragged before we even start, that is."

"An unfortunate possibility," she agreed, before falling quiet, and the two watched the satellite's steady observations of the planet in a shared silence for some time before she spoke again; the two of them were closest in age to each other, which might have been why they'd been able to have these occasional moments of contemplation despite their wildly different temperaments. "Did you ever meet him? Duo, I mean."

"Huh?" He blinked, before turning to glare at her. "Nobody ever told you? Fuck 'em all."

"Most likely, they all assumed somebody else had, just as you did," she guessed calmly. "We do tend to do that a lot, unfortunately. What was it that somebody should have told me?"

"The only ones who actually met the bastard were dad, the chief, and Prince," Earl explained, looking back at the projector. "Matter of fact, he showed up on the exact damn day they first woke Prince up. Stuck around for a while, showed 'em what they wanted, then took off again before Duke."

"Ah." She closed her eyes. "I suppose I should have expected as much. Another secret."

"Huh," Earl said, sounding more contemplative than usual, and when she opened her eyes he was looking at her again. "It really does piss you off, doesn't it? Didn't think anything did."

"I'm as sentient as anybody," she reminded him. "And despite appearances, my emotional range is fully intact. Just as it might surprise some of the others that you, in fact, can be civilized."

"Don't spread it around." He scowled.

"I have no intentions of ruining your reputation," she assured him. "I'll leave you alone now."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered as she departed.

It wasn't long before Countess heard more signs of life, this time from behind a wall. Pausing for a moment to remember how to access the hidden doorway, she stood before the correct spot and spoke her password aloud, one that was personal to her; each of those granted access had one. For a moment, there was no response, and then a section of the wall raised itself into the ceiling, revealing a doorway that she walked through, into the examining room behind it.

"Whoever it is, you oughta be in stasis at this hour," the doctor in the room growled, not looking up from his work. The only light in the room shone from overhead, down upon his patient, a temporarily inactive DWN010 "Quick Man," who was in the middle of a total overhaul; half of his armor was missing, and his chest gaped open, a tangled mass of circuitry. All that was visible of the doctor were his hands, working adeptly as he stood in the darkness. "For that matter, so should I. Remind me again why I signed up for this deal."

"Because you'd already decided to by the time we told you what the price tag was," Countess reminded him, smiling slightly; she didn't usually have much of a sense of humor, but the doc, as Mecha's citizens fondly called him, was one of the few people she actually enjoyed spending time with. "And if nothing else, you've always been stubborn."

"Can't argue with _that _one," the doctor admitted, looking at her now, not that she could see his face very well; fortunately, she already knew what he looked like. "Countess. Good. I've been hoping one of you would stop by here soon. Can't exactly step out to find _you, _these days."

"I apologize for that," she said, and meant it. "How can I help you?"

"The next time X comes by, send him in here," he said, his voice grouchy yet determined. "That's how. We've talked it over, and everybody agrees that it's time to bite the bullet and let him know we're still alive. We're all sick of staying back here to dodge visitors. Hopefully, once he's come to terms with it, he'll find some way to explain it to the rest of the class."

"That's not the real reason, is it?" She asked.

"No." He shook his head. "But that's complicated, and I'm busy enough right now with Dundee here. He's the last one, thank christ. I just hope you don't have to put him down."

"As do I," Countess murmured. Dundee was the Quick Man Earl and Baron had brought back, a Wilybot who'd been previously active, with everything that implied, and he hadn't been with them for long. So far, he'd been willing to attempt to learn a different way of life, but he had yet to actually met a human, and they were still unsure about him. "Working by yourself?"

"The other two turned in." He shrugged. "I probably should too, but what the hell."

"You too?" She smiled. "Well, since I'll be up for a while myself, why don't I lend you a hand?"

"Seeing as how you actually know what you're doing?" He nodded slightly. "Yeah, sure, why not. Even if he's the last one, who knows how much time we have left."

"Who ever does?" She replied quietly, as she walked over and got to work.

**April 21, 2185, 11:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

Sometimes, it was easier than others for Alia to forget that the Maverick Hunters were a professional military organization.

"Behind cover!" Douglas yelped, popping his head out from his office to yell at the few members of the pit crew who were still exposed as the hulking piece of antique Ride Armor opened fire with both automatic mag-rifles that it had in place of arms. "Get behind cover, guys!" By the looks of it, the drone currently operating it-a humanoid robot without a fraction of the intelligence of Robot Masters, more commonly used by Mavericks and local law enforcement than Hunters-had gone haywire. Fortunately, its aim seemed to be off as well, and none of the unfortunate staff were tagged.

"Do I even want to know?" Donia asked evenly from Alia's side as the two of them stood in the doorway to the garage.

"Probably not." She shook her head slowly, even as the drone turned its head to notice them, now that they were the only two standing out in the open. "Would you mind?"

"Who am I to turn down an opportunity for some easy public service?"

"Alia?" Douglas stared at her as the Ride Armor began to turn. "And Donia? What are you doing? Run!"

Without bothering to respond, Donia removed the magrifle she had strapped to her back-she'd been coming back from the shooting range when she'd crossed paths with Alia-and took careful aim before firing, twice. Both shots tore through the drone's head, removing nearly half of it, and as it deactivated, the ride armor froze in place.

"Forgot to put the bubble canopy up," Donia explained calmly in the silence that followed, replacing her magrifle. "See, this is why you need to come with me and Lily next time."

"Why, when I've got you?" Alia shot back, rolling her eyes. "Is that an Eagle model? I haven't seen one of those in decades."

"I know, right?" Douglas walked back out, as cheerful as ever now that the danger was over; the rest of the pit crew were somewhat more cautious, muttering to themselves as they slowly emerged. "Turns out the guys down in Mecha have a real antique collection. Perfectly maintained, too. I've been wanting to tinker with one of these babies since forever, but talking that guy they have in charge of them to give us one was like trying to get Signas to approve a doubled budget. Had to trade him one of our latest Triton models for it in the end."

"So of course, the first thing you do is stick a drone in there without testing to see if _it's _completely functional?" Alia smiled, so he'd know she was only teasing.

"Hey, I'm a vehicle guy." Douglas shrugged, as his crew began climbing up the Eagle's back in order to extract the drone. Watching them work, he sighed. "To be honest, I'm not sure how much longer anybody's going to be making Ride Armor like this. They were useful when the planet was in better shape, but they take a _lot _of resources to make, and every year we've got less and less to work with. The future's probably going to go the way of more efficiency and less overkill."

"There's a reason they _call _it overkill, you know," she reminded him as Donia turned away. "Heading up to the war room?"

"Yeah, I'm on duty in five." She waved over her shoulder. "Try not to get into anything else like that while I'm not here to save your ass."

"See if I save _yours _the next time you go too far with backtalking a Captain, if you keep saying things like that," Alia retorted.

"I don't understand your friendship at all," Douglas commented, watching Donia leave.

"It's complicated." Alia brushed it off. "Most of them are. At any rate, would you mind if we stepped into your office for a few minutes?"

"Huh?" He blinked. "Oh, sure. All right, guys, deactivate it once you get that thing out of there. We'll try again with one of us this time after we all cool down a bit."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, boss," one of them called over his shoulder. "Don't take too long in there. Not that you'd stand a chance with _her, _no offense, Miss Alia."

"What do you think I am, crazy?" Douglas called back, as they walked into his office. Unlike most high-ranking officers, his was, for obvious reasons, located down in the garage along with the rest of his staff's, or at least those of them who'd been there long enough to _have _offices. As Alia closed the door, he turned around and started to speak before catching the look on her face. "So, what's... oh, oh. All right, what did I do?"

"Would you mind explaining that little exchange?" She asked coldly, making no move to show him the datapad she held just yet.

"Huh?" Douglas blinked, before the dots connected a moment later. "Oh. Uh. Look, Alia, these guys, they're just a bunch of grease monkeys, you know? Discipline standards are a little bit lower down here. If I yelled at 'em too much, it'd just hold us up all day."

"How you run your branch of the organization is your business, not mine," she conceded. "After all, I have no authority over you, or them. I'd simply like to know about it when it concerns me. That's a reasonable request, I think."

"Yeesh." Douglas grimaced. "Okay, okay. I never really know how to break this to people, but... you can be kind of intimidating at times, Alia. Not all the time, just sometimes. And word gets around, huh? Especially down here."

"Really." She raised an eyebrow. "Despite having no more capacity for violence than any civilian model of your choice."

"You'd be surprised how hard it is to remember that sometimes," he explained. "Besides, just because you're not going to blow anybody's head off doesn't mean you won't go and have them reassigned to..." He frowned. "You know, I don't actually know what punishment detail is, for us. Where _would _you reassign them?"

"Focus, Douglas," she told him severely, refusing to let him divert her. "Is that really all there was to it? Really?"

"Well..." Douglas hesitated for a moment more before giving in. "Look, everybody knows you're not interested, all right? Not available."

"And why is that?" She raised an eyebrow. "I can't remember the last time somebody actually _asked _me."

"Well, no," he admitted, and something in him finally seemed to click, then. Turning his chair around, he sat in it and met her eyes levelly. "That's because nobody's stupid enough to _try_. And with some of the goons we've got around here, that's saying something."

"It's about X, isn't it." She leaned against the door, crossing her arms. "For some reason, everybody's been asking me about him recently. It's starting to grow irritating."

"Yeah." Douglas nodded, no longer attempting to avoid the subject. "It is. And while you know, I know, and everybody else on the top brass knows that it's not like that, the guys on the floor _don't_. All that _they _know is what they see and hear, and they draw their conclusions from that. And all that they figure is that nobody in their right mind would _say _anything about it to you or to him, which could mean a lot of things."

"What they see and hear?" She repeated slowly. "Well, I can't do anything about workplace gossip aside from maintaining this reputation I seem to have acquired, but I'd appreciate hearing what you mean about 'see.'"

"Actually, Alia, I've been meaning to talk to you about that for a while now myself." Douglas was frowning now, and his voice held no traces of his usual goofing off. "I'm going to be honest with you. I'm starting to worry about you. You and X both."

"Elaborate," she said, remaining calm.

"Let me ask you something," he replied. "It's a little before noon. How much time have you spent away from him today, ever since you both woke up?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" She shot back, ignoring the feeling of her circuits suddenly seeming to accelerate somehow.

"A lot, actually," he said, still meeting her eyes. "Well?"

"Most of the morning," she answered after a moment more. "I fail to see the point. I'm the 17th's most frequent Navigator, and I have an close rapport with almost everybody in the Unit. We spent the morning working with them together."

"Until you came down here, right?" He guessed. "This is the first time all morning you and him split up."

"Again, what's your point?" She pressed. "I'm aware that certain rumors are bound to go around whenever two adults of opposite-or sometimes not-genders maintain a consistent career relationship for an extended period of time, but I thought you were wiser than to listen to that, Douglas."

"I'm not listening to it, Alia." He shook his head. "I'm listening to you, and I'm watching you and X when you're together. And I don't blame those guys outside a bit, for getting the wrong idea about you two."

"Really?" Her voice turned cold again. "And why is that?"

"Because you're almost always together, no matter where you go, these days," Douglas explained, unfazed. "It wasn't like that when we first joined up. Back then, yeah, it really was like you said. But ever since Eurasia, I'd wager you and him spend a _minimum _of twelve hours a day together either physically or through a voice connection, Alia. Sometimes as much as sixteen. Every day, for the last ten years at least. You don't take leave, you don't go off base very often, and even then, never for long. Most people who _are _in a relationship aren't that bad. That's why I've been worried about you."

"You're making it sound worse than it really is," she told him quietly.

"Am I?" He replied in the same tone. "Then how come everybody's always bringing him up whenever they talk to you? I'd wager most people who talk to him do it almost as often, and my guess is that the only times you're _not_ together are when you're out with your friends, as a general rule, these days. You're not the 17th's Navigator, you're X's, and more than that; you've been going above and beyond those duties to help him with his. You're practically his personal assistant, and I don't think it's for professional reasons."

"And why is that any business of yours, whether it's true or not, Douglas?" She asked, her nerves racing and her heart pounding, though she still kept her calm mask up.

"Because you're my friend, Alia," he told her gently, and that was what broke her; she knew her eyes were going wide now, and couldn't stop it. "You and X are both my friends. And I'm worried about you. Even if you _were _in a relationship, that wouldn't be healthy behavior. The fact that you're _not _just makes it worse. You're both separate people, and you have separate lives. Trying to live the same one together, with only rare exceptions... that's the sort of thing that only gets worse, unless you stop it. How long before you _never _leave his side, or he yours, except when you're sleeping? And what if you guys _do _decide to take a chance, one day?"

"That's not going to happen." She shook her head quietly, looking down at her feet now; she couldn't meet his gaze any more. "It never will. Our relationship is a professional one, Douglas, not a personal one. This is as far as it's going to go. It's not going to happen."

"I've heard that one before," he said, shaking his head, somehow managing to speak with only genuine concern rather than skepticism. "From a lot of different people, over the years. And yeah, sometimes they were right, and it never did. But not often."

"Their situations were different from ours." She kept looking at her feet. "Look, Douglas. I'm not going to pretend I've never thought about it. I'm a professional, but I'm not dead. Maybe if it was up to me... but the thing is, it's not. It has to go both ways, and the fact of the matter is that that's not how X sees me."

"Alia," Douglas said quietly. "He doesn't like being separated from you, any more than you do him. You're the most important person in his life. That's what I've been saying."

"The most important person in his life?" She smiled, then, slightly bitter. "Now, maybe. Not always. That's what you've been missing, Douglas. X is strong. He's the strongest person I know, the strongest I ever have. But he has his weaknesses as well, and one of those is that he _can't _function alone. He needs people around him, in order to keep him on his feet. Friends. And more than that, he needs somebody, one person, who'll always be with him. A partner to brace himself against, so he doesn't fall over. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"Eurasia," Douglas murmured, and a quick glance at his face told her that he understood now. "You two only started getting this bad after Eurasia. After..." He let it hang.

"After he lost Zero," she finished for him. "And _that _situation was _not _a romantic one, despite a few loudmouths who _still _haven't taken the hint. That, I'm sure of. After he lost Zero, he needed somebody else, and that's where I came in. I was a natural for the job. Me and X are partners, and confidants as well. I probably know more about him than anybody else still alive. But that's all we are, Douglas, and it's all we're ever going to be."

"Are you sure?" He asked her quietly. "Have you ever actually asked him? He's got to know what people think is going on."

"Of course he does." She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, that's inevitable, considering. People are _always _going to think that. But X isn't the type to care what anybody says about him unless it's important, and this isn't."

"It's important to you," he said softly.

"Personal isn't the same as important," she answered after a moment, closing her eyes. "I'm a big girl, Douglas. I'm not going to let this get to me. He and Zero were just as inseparable back then as him and I are now. It's necessary, and if I have to do it for thirty more years, or sixty, or six hundred, I will. Just like he will. We understand each other, Douglas. That's good enough."

"And you're really sure he doesn't feel the same way back?" Douglas shook his head slowly.

_"Alia... can you promise me something?" _

"I'm sorry, Douglas," she said, eyes still closed. "That's... something I'd rather not talk about. But yes. I'm sure."

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said after a moment. "I didn't know. I won't try to meddle in it any more."

"Thank you, then." She opened her eyes again, all business once more. "On to what I came here for, then. The three new members of the 17th Unit are all ready for hoverbike lessons. Can we set up a time where one of your men who's qualified can teach them the basics of maintenance before we send them out on a trial run?"

"I'll do it myself," he offered. "Just let me know when would be best for you guys."

"Are you sure?" She asked; for some reason, she suddenly felt closer to the scrappy little mechanic then ever before. "I'm sure you have a hundred other things to do."

"Boy, do I ever," he admitted, scoffing. "But it's important that the 17th learn from the best, isn't it? And I'm the best. That's why I'm in charge. So I'll teach those three myself, and I'll make sure they learn it right."

"That would be highly appreciated." She smiled again, and this time she meant it from the heart. "I have the feeling every little bit is going to help, in the days ahead."

"Is it looking that bad, then?" He asked, serious again.

"You feel it too?" She replied. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Not just me." He shook his head. "A lot of the guys. It's like... everything is changing, isn't it? And this is just the start. Something's coming. Something huge."

"And we don't know what it is," she agreed. "So all we can do is pray for the best and prepare for the worst. But then, that's why we're the Maverick Hunters, isn't it?"

"We really need to get that one put on a wall somewhere." He chuckled as she stood to leave.

**April 21, 2185, 5:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Leon, age 21. Convicted of three counts of murder and seventeen counts of assault, you have been sentenced to death by Commanding Officer Signas of the Maverick Hunters. Do you have any last words?"

"No," the black-armored reploid with the look of an old western black-hat said calmly, before one of the Hunters who surrounded the line of grim-faced prisoners reached into his open chest compartment and proceeded to shut him down for the last time.

"Hey," X said quietly as he walked into the little-used hall to the side of the MHHQ's execution room; by the looks of it, he'd arrived just in time to hear the first one of the day. Normally, he preferred to avoid the place, just like most Hunters, but not everybody felt the same way. "Down here again?"

"Sometimes I just feel like I should," Alia replied, not looking away from the window that took up most of the wall between the two rooms. She was standing next to it, eyes fixed firmly on the other side. "You understand."

"I do," he admitted as he joined her. He didn't quite feel the same way, but he understood why _she _did.

"Gorral, age 7. Convicted of one count of manslaughter and two counts of assault, you have been sentenced to death by Commanding Officer Signas of the Maverick Hunters. Do you have any last words?"

"Go fuck yourselves," the burly, gorilla-model reploid in blue and purple growled wearily, with no real bite.

"What did he do?" X asked quietly. Alia would know. She always knew. "Not Leon, Gorral. I _remember _him. He almost got Bernard before we took him down."

"Car accident," Alia explained. "A human ran a red light and Gorral smashed right into him. When he realized the human was dead, he tried to run, and when that didn't work, he tried hostages instead. Didn't do him much good against the 7th."

"I suppose it wouldn't," X said, shaking his head. "These days, anyways. Back when Sirius-you remember him, Simon's adopted father-was running the Unit, they might have let him get away. Maybe even helped him fake his death."

"Even for a while, after Rip took over," she agreed. "He was still as soft-hearted as most of them, back in those days. Not any more, though."

"No, that's not a term I'd use to describe him now," he replied.

"Alicia, age 2. Convicted of seven counts of murder, you have been sentenced to death by Commanding Officer Signas of the Maverick Hunters. Do you have any last words?"

The small, pretty woman in silver armor with long hair of the same color was silent, and after a few moments, they killed her without waiting further.

"Her?" X said, without vocalizing the thought that she hadn't looked like a killer; he'd learned long ago just how little that meant.

"Arson," Alia explained. "We don't know the details, but it's probable she was abused until she snapped."

"Why didn't they mention that charge, then?" He asked, frowning.

"The Ames Expedient," she said, glancing at him now. "Ten years ago. If the charges carrying a death sentence for reploids are ruled as no contest by the Captain in charge of the arrest, we carry it out without waiting to see how the rest go, to save time. You don't remember?"

"I should have," he admitted.

"Bors, age 5. Convicted of one count of assault, you have been sentenced to death by Commanding Officer Signas of the Maverick Hunters. Do you have any last words?"

"Tell my wife I love her," the burly humanoid in black and yellow armor replied quietly, not flinching as they shut him down.

"Brawl at a bar," Alia told him, without needing him to ask this time. "He'd just lost his job, and when a bunch of humans started beating him up, he fought back. The first punch was enough. They ran off, and he got as drunk as possible before the 10th came, then surrendered without a fight."

"And the humans?" X asked quietly.

"They walked."

"Ah."

"Reiku, age 11. Convicted of three counts of murder and fourteen counts of assault, you have been sentenced to death by Commanding Officer Signas of the Maverick Hunters. Do you have any last words?"

"I do not."

"Her, I remember," X noted, watching the tall, stately woman in red and gray die. "That group of terrorists, right? Over in England?"

"That's right." Alia nodded. "She was the only one they took alive, to try and find out if they had any other members or branch groups. She didn't talk."

"A lot of them don't," he pointed out, and she nodded without comment as the Hunters in the other room moved on to the last one of the day.

"Mako, age 7. Convicted of three counts of assault, you have been sentenced to death by Commanding Officer Signas of the Maverick Hunters. Do you have any last words?"

"Fuck you," the red-and-blue reptile spat. "Fuck all of you Hunters. I wish I _had _been Infected. Maybe then I'd have taken some of you with me and made the world a better place."

"Erratic behavior on the job," Alia explained. "His coworkers thought that meant he'd been Infected and tried some vigilante justice. He fought back, and they called in the Hunters. Turned out it was a glitch in his systems that was making him act that way. Not that it matters now."

"No, I suppose it doesn't," X said, shaking his head. "Six of them today. That's a lot."

"It is," she agreed. "We don't usually take that many alive. That's half of our prisoners. The other half will probably be up here within the next few days."

"Are you going to be here to watch them, too?" He asked, carefully keeping his voice level.

"I might," she replied, still looking on as the Hunters moved on to the second, final stage of the daily executions. The incinerator, a massive pit of molten metal that a conveyer belt would carry the six corpses into, to be reduced to slag and recycled, now that they would never feel a thing ever again. It was a grim duty, one that was one of the least desirable in the entire building, and that was saying a lot considering what they often had to go through on a daily basis. "Depends on how busy it is. Today wasn't bad."

"It was fairly quiet," he agreed. "Of course, it helps that the 17th's being kept on standby for when Sigma finally crawls back out of whatever hole he's gone down."

"There is that," she said. "If the next few days are the same, then probably, yes." Finally, she glanced at him. "You don't have to, though. Not if you don't want to."

"I might," he echoed her, meeting her gaze as well for a moment before, on a simultaneous impulse, they both turned back to the window; the Hunters were loading the bodies onto the conveyer belt, one by one. "Depends on how I'm feeling."

"Does it bother you?" She asked quietly. "I know it did, once."

"It did," he admitted. "Back when I was still a pacifist. Back when I thought that someday, I wouldn't have to fight any more. I still kept thinking that for a long time, far longer than I should have. No matter how bad things got, no matter how many times Sigma came back, I thought that one day, it would all end. That the Maverick Hunters would truly no longer be necessary, and that things like this would never have to happen again. That we'd finally be able to make some progress with reploid rights, and maybe even get them equal treatment with humans when it came to the death sentence."

"I remember those days," she said softly, and though her face was still calm, her eyes were not. "Before Eurasia."

"Before Eurasia," he agreed quietly. "That was when I finally grew up." They stood there in silence for some time, until the conveyer belt started moving, and he glanced back at her again. "How about you? Does it bother you? When you come here, and watch this?"

"It used to," she said, watching as Leon's body moved towards the incinerator. "Even after Eurasia, for a while. Especially the ones like Bors and Mako... and perhaps Alicia, I suppose, depending on what actually happened over there. We'll probably never know. No matter how I rationalized it, no matter what logic I applied, I kept thinking that cases like that shouldn't happen. That they shouldn't be killed for that. Not if humans weren't. More than fifty years since reploids were created, and it kept happening... and we kept doing it."

"Yeah." X shook his head slowly, watching Leon's corpse fall in; Gorral's was next. "What changed your mind?"

"Time, I suppose," she explained. "Or maybe it didn't change. Maybe I just started believing in all of those rationalizations. Unpleasant as this is, it's still preferable to the alternative. We can't change the law, we can only enforce it. Our only options are to do so or not, and so we choose to, because the world still needs us. The evils of order are the lesser, compared to those of chaos. Especially as long as Sigma's still out there, and everybody else who's like him. We might not be heroes, and we might not be righteous, but we are necessary."

"Yeah." X nodded, as Gorral's body followed Leon's, with Alicia's next to come. "We're necessary. For good or for ill. That's what keeps me going these days, really. Remembering that I have to, whether I want to or not." He paused. "Well, no. That's what's kept me going from the very beginning, but back then, I had other reasons as well. Now, those are all gone."

"And we're still here," she whispered softly. "What happened to us, X? When did we become so old and tired? Why are we like this, instead of how we used to be?"

"Because people change, Alia," he said. "It's something that reploids have a lot more trouble dealing with than humans, because they don't age physically. Only mentally, and that doesn't show, unless you know what to look for. I'm going to be eighty soon, and you're..." He stopped himself just in time. "Well, the number's not important."

"You can say it, you know," she told him, smiling slightly. "I might not look it, any more than you do, but I'm an old lady, now. If I was human, I'd be sitting on a porch in a rocking chair with a blanket over me, drinking lemonade-or perhaps sweet tea-and watching the sun set."

"With a shotgun under your blanket," X quipped, smiling back, and they both laughed.

"I thought that went without saying," she said, still joking for a moment before both smiles faded; Alicia's body had disappeared, and now Bors' fell in as well. "And before you say that I'm not _that _old, by reploid standards, I am."

"Yeah," X admitted quietly. "And I'd be in my grave, if we're going by the same conversion rate. Nobody lives _that _long, even with modern medical technology. People change. That's what being sentient means. It means you grow up, you grow old, and you change. You're not the same person you were, when you were younger. And that doesn't just stop happening, either. Maybe it doesn't always show, on the surface, but as long as you're alive, you'll never be the exact same person as you were five years ago."

"We've changed more than most, though," Alia pointed out, as they watched Reiku's body vanish into the incinerator.

"We've been through more than most," he replied. "Nearly eighty years of military service for me, almost as much for you. Even if you're not on the front lines, that'll take a toll on you, eventually. Especially if you don't like what you're doing, and if you never did. If you signed up because you _did _like it, that helps, but people like us..." He sighed. "We're not invincible, Alia. Mentally or physically. There's only so long anybody _can _keep that kind of dichotomy up, before you either go numb or go insane. I think we chose the lesser of two evils there, too."

"Are we?" She asked. "Numb, I mean?"

"Can you think of a better word to describe it?" He replied, watching Mako's corpse as it was incinerated.

"No, I suppose not," she admitted, shaking her head. "It's just that... you make it seem like it was only a matter of time."

"That's because it probably was," he said, as they both stepped back and leaned against the wall behind them. There was nothing more to see, but still they remained for the moment, still not looking at each other. "As long as we weren't killed, and we didn't quit, then something like this was eventually going to happen. Getting old. That's what people don't get about reploids, what reploids don't get about themselves until it happens to them."

"That because we don't look like it, that we don't," she murmured. "That we should just stay the same, forever. That we won't age mentally, as long as we don't physically. That nothing will ever change." She shook her head slowly. "But that's not the way it works, is it?"

"No, it's not," he agreed. "It doesn't work that way for humans, and it doesn't work that way for us. People change. This is just what happens. I don't think there's any other way either of us _could _have turned out, minor variations aside."

"Not even-" she started to say, before cutting herself off. "Never mind."

"No, it's all right," he told her, looking at her. "You can say it, whatever it was. I won't mind. Not from you."

"It's fine," she insisted. "I wasn't thinking."

"Please, Alia?" He asked, and after a moment, she continued.

"Not even if Zero had lived?"

"Minor variations," he repeated, after a moment's thought, and now she turned to meet his eyes. "If Zero was still alive... maybe I'd be a little better. A little. I wouldn't have had to get quite this cold, this hard, because he'd still be here to do that for me. Well, maybe not the cold part. He was always blazing." He smiled slightly. "He'd never get like this. He was the one who _did _always love the Hunter life. It was the only life he'd ever known, and even when it got bad, he never thought about anything else. You remember what he was like."

"I do," she replied, calmly. "I knew him for a long time. Back then, I worked with the 00 Unit a lot, too."

"You did, didn't you?" He smiled slightly. "Remember that time, back when you and me and him went up on the roof with that bottle of whiskey, and watched the stars for a while? He was pissing and moaning the whole time. Said we were being angsty and melodramatic."

"At least until we got about halfway through the bottle," she reminded him, returning his smile. "He cheered up after that. Even started looking for constellations with us."

"And arguing when we told him they weren't where he thought they were." He shook his head. "God, I miss him. He was my brother for almost fifty years. I'd probably have been a little better if I hadn't lost him, yeah. But I'd still be old, and tired, with more memories than I know what to do with. Memories like that night." He looked at her eyes, and saw her age as well, and her memories, in them... but also that same spark of calm, quiet hope that had caught his attention the first time they'd met. It was still there. "You and Zero... you're the two most important people to me that I've ever known, Alia. I lost him. I've lost everybody who was family. If I lost you, too... I wouldn't have anything left."

"And you're the most important to me, X." She looked away, then, and he knew he'd said something wrong, but he didn't know what. After a moment, she glanced back at him. "I'm still not going anywhere. No matter what happens."

"I know you won't," he said, wishing he knew what his mistake had been, but knowing he probably never would.

"Good." She turned away. "We should get back to work."

"Yeah," he agreed, and they left the hall behind them, as the Hunters shut the incinerator down.

**April 23, 2185, 6:00 PM **

**Hidden Maverick Base, Skull Island **

"What's your name?" Sigma asked again, as he walked through the dark halls, alone save for the bodiless spirit constantly inside his mind.

**How many times do I have to tell you? **The consciousness of the Maverick Virus replied irritably, no longer confused by the very idea of that question; he'd kept asking it, over the last few days, and it had yet to provide a response that satisfied him. **I have no name, and no _need _for a name. If you wish to address me as anything, 'the Maverick Virus' is closest. **

"That's not a name." Sigma shook his head. "Names don't begin with 'the.' A name is _who _you are, not _what. _And everybody needs a name."

**I am not _everybody, _**it snarled. **I have no name, no body, no shape or form. _I am not like you, _Sigma. I am not like anybody. Your values and concepts are as meaningless to me as dust in the wind, and I will not be bound by them. If you ask me one more time, I will show you exactly how irritating I find your stupidity. **

"A wager, then?" Sigma asked slyly, carefully keeping only a few valuable thoughts separate from it. It was possible to do so, to hide a small portion of his mind from its probing touch, though only with a great deal of effort. He doubted that anybody else would be able to, but over the decades, he'd grown as accustomed to its taint as he was to his own senses. And like those senses, he'd learned how it worked. "If you're that confident?"

**A wager? **The Virus replied, its voice a mix of skepticism, anger, and reluctant interest. **Explain. Now. **

"I won't ask it again, as you wish," Sigma explained. "Not a single time, ever again... until we meet somebody who _is _like you. And I don't mean Zero. If _that _should happen, then since you have no name, _I'll _give you one... but _only _if you're wrong about what you said."

**Insolent, **the Virus murmured. **I should make you writhe, just for suggesting the possibility. But since you're grasping at straws, I suppose I might as well humor you in your desperation. Very well. A bet it is. **

"You see?" Sigma smiled, as hideous as ever despite his newfound knowledge of just how much of a monster he had become. "We _do _understand each other. Since we're gambling on that, why not a second one as well, then? One that we can answer immediately, without any stakes. Just for the fun of it." He stepped through a door, and looked around at the tubes of viscous green liquid in the room beyond, nine of them in a ring, each containing one of those who had fallen in their service before. Ones who now returned to that service. "Who do you think will be first out, once we wake them up?"

**You're whimsical today, **the Virus commented, but the sourness in its tone was already fading. In many ways, it's mind was incredibly complex, in ways mere mortals could never hope to comprehend. In others, though, it was just as incredibly simple, quick to anger and quick to forget. **Why not? I'll bet on... Double, then. He always was a fierce one. **

"A likely choice." Sigma nodded. "Well then, I'll bet on... Violen, I think. Double might be fierce, but he always considered his actions carefully before taking them. Violen barely used his mind at all." Chuckling, he walked over to a console and began inputting the instructions. Instructing the base's computer to begin the process of awakening. It had been long enough, and their bodies were ready. Only one step remained. "There. They'll start up in sixty seconds. All they need is one more thing. It's your turn."

**Yes... **the Virus murmured, and Sigma felt it _twist _inside his mind, felt its intangible tendrils reaching out. Not through physical space, but through something else entirely, in a way that made him suddenly, physically ill. Leaning over his console, he heaved, glad that he had no actual stomach and thus nothing to bring up. Simply being there, being one with it when it did... whatever it was doing, was enough to trigger a kind of reflexive disgust as powerful as the pain with which it punished him, even after all he had seen.

And then they came. And he _felt _their horror, and their despair, as their minds and souls fought its pull and failed. As they returned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the control chips set in their foreheads light up, blank slates suddenly being rewritten with years of life and memory and personality in moments, downloaded through the touch of the Virus within them.

And then, one by one, their eyes opened.

As it turned out, neither of them were right. The first cracking of glass came from the tube containing one of Sigma's favorite dupes, at the time of his Rebellion. A brilliant doctor, who had stunned the world by developing what he claimed to be a vaccination for the Maverick Virus. In truth, a placebo, meant to persuade others to follow his lead... and to dance to Sigma's tune, just as he had been from the beginning. Despite the face of an old man, silver hair spiked up and beard just as pointy, his body was lean and strong, in gray and blue armor with large batteries atop his red shoulder plates.

"_Sigma!_" Doctor Doppler, a reploid who had truly achieved the doctorate he claimed in many fields, screamed as he burst from the tube and charged straight for his tormentor, in a living fireball that covered his entire body without so much as singing him.

**Damn, **the Virus grumbled. **We both lose. I wasn't expecting _him. _**

"Neither of us did," Sigma murmured, calmly raising his saber hand. Without even caring about the damage he took or the pain he felt, he caught Doppler's skull in his massive mitt and held him aloft, even as the fire scorched his arm. "I really should have, though. He came back, before he died. He escaped you. Hello, doctor. I'm afraid we require your services once more. The only question is, how long will you fight, before you accept the inevitable?"

"You..." Doppler choked, before spasming, as his ability to hold back the Virus waned. Sigma watched until his struggling had ceased, and he'd grown still and silent, before releasing him. Dropping to the floor, the doctor landed neatly before bowing. "My apologies, lord Sigma. Please, forgive me my moment of foolishness. It will not happen again."

"See to it that it does not," Sigma said calmly, as two more tubes exploded outwards, two more Mavericks emerging, reborn anew to serve the Virus.

One was massive, the largest of them all save Sigma in width and breadth if not height, though that still towered above most reploids. A hulk of muscle and ridiculously thick crimson armor, like most of the others he was a humanoid model, though his brutish features were apelike. His main weapon, with which he secured his freedom with one smash, was a spiked metal sphere as large as his torso that rested upon his back when not in use, attached to him by a long chain tail as responsive and flexible as any of his limbs. Violen was his name, and violent was his nature.

The other was taller and leaner, but no less threatening in appearance, his armor all sharp edges and curved blades in bright yellow. His arms and legs were a design peculiarity, thin metal bars extending from hips to ankles and shoulders to wrists jointed once, covered in a constantly regenerating barrier of purple gel, in truth masses of nanomachines that could take form upon his command. His fingers were long and nimble, his features harsh, and his eyes blazing red pits of madness. He had been Sigma's double agent within the Hunters, and accordingly, he bore the name of Double.

Only moments later, another burst free, and then another. The first bore a slight resemblance to Double, but was both taller and thinner, a lanky ectomorph armored in various shades of purple. His eyes were red as well, but rather than Double's mad bloodlust, his features reflected a cold disregard for anything but his own amusement, visible in his twisted grin. He, along with Violen and another, had been Sigma's successors for a short time, when all the world had believed him dead, a Maverick Triumvirate of which only he had ever known of his master's survival. His name was Agile.

His companion was the only one of the nine who was not a human model. Most animal models in Sigma's service had been delegated to lesser positions of leadership, as had this one, but in time, he had proven himself worthy of a promotion, so to speak. Short, thin and wiry, clad in blue and brown, both armor and fur. His jaws chittered restlessly, full of needle fangs eager to rip and tear, and his eyes gleamed like Double's, with just as much carnage. Fluid Ferret.

The next two out, one after another, were brothers, though one could be forgiven for not guessing; they were as different as night and day. One was short and slender like Ferret, but proud in bearing, armored in silver and gold with a highly decorative helmet that covered every other part of his head save for his eyes, deep and shadowed. The other was as massive as Violen, but slightly less bulky in exchange for greater height, a monster in red and gray metal. His face was a mask as cold and hard as the rest of him, without a trace of synthflesh, and a golden ring rose from his back. Bit and Byte.

Eighth to emerge was a doctor as brilliant as Doppler, one who had served with Agile and Violen as the brains of their operation. The shortest of them all, his body was clearly not meant for combat, a failing he had made up for with inventions and tools. His armor was a deep blue trimmed with red, and his head was frightening, one eye a clearly robotic red optic like a car's headlight, the other narrow and piercing. His features were as sharp as his mind, bald head framed by a fringe of steel, his mustache similar. Serges was his name.

The last of them was the only one with the patience to wait for his tube to drain and the glass to lower, rather than breaking out, and he was the eldest and the most dangerous of them all. A Hunter whose talent had made him the only one to ever be considered for promotion into the 1st Unit; the other members had all been founding. Average in both height and build, the only things noteworthy about him were the cannon on his shoulder and the helmet that covered his head, with only a t-shaped opening in the front that still kept his face framed in shadow. His name was Vile, and it was one he had earned many times over, through many Rebellions, the only one of them who had been reborn before.

He was the only one of them who did not bow, in unison, but chose instead to lean back against the base of the tank he'd calmly walked out of, arms folded.

"Lord Sigma," the other eight all said together, heads lowered.

"Welcome back, my friends," Sigma replied, ignoring Vile for the moment. "It seems I have need of your services once more. But fear not, for you will be well paid for your time and effort. From this day forth, you will never fear death again. Even should you be slain, the power of the Maverick Virus will call you forth from the void once more, as many times as necessary until our triumph is universal. You are the greatest of my servants, and so I give you the blessing which I alone have held until now. Immortality is yours."

"We are not worthy, milord," Byte said, voice deep. "We will not fail you a second time."

"Not unless you meet with X again, you mean," Sigma replied, his voice amused. "No, no, don't worry. I am the only one who can kill him now, and I am aware of this. Should you fall before him once more, no blame will be attached to you. However..." His voice turned cold. "Should anybody _else _slay you, your revival will not be as pleasant as this one was. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Lord Sigma," Double assured him, the raw, rabid bloodthirst in his voice clearly audible. "Not a one of us has ever fallen by the hand of another." He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Vile. "Well, _almost _not a one of us, that is." When Vile did not respond, he looked back to the floor. "I have no intentions of breaking that streak, and I doubt anybody else will either."

"For your sake, I hope not," Sigma said, calm and cold. "Now rise, and educate yourselves on what you have missed over the years. Much has happened, and you should know it before we proceed."

"Knew this was too good to be true," Violen grumbled under his breath to Agile, who hissed at him as Sigma turned his eyes to the two of them.

"Is there a problem?"

"Ah..." Agile coughed, as Violen's mouth worked, trying to come up with an explanation and failing. "My apologies, my lord, but Violen is... well, he's as stupid as a stump. History isn't really his strong point." Ferret snickered, and Violen growled at him.

"You and Serges may assist him, then," Sigma said, and they both relaxed, before tensing up as he continued. "So long as you are willing to bear his punishment as well, should he fail."

"That is... acceptable, my lord," Serges said after a moment, and Agile nodded as well.

"Thanks, guys," Violen murmured, looking confused.

**That's right, **the Virus snarled. **During our time away, my hold on those three weakened, enough that they were able to actually become _friends_ despite my influence. In order to break that hold on Agile, we had to give him a higher dose. We should do that for all of those three, now. **

"No," Sigma said, speaking aloud, and prompting confused looks from the Mavericks around him. "No, there are advantages to that as well. They may prove useful."

"Lord Sigma?" Bit asked after a moment. "Who... are you speaking to?"

"It does not matter." Sigma turned away. "Pay it no mind. Once you are up to date on current affairs, occupy yourselves in the training room. Your opponents are each other, in whatever form you wish, so long as it is effective. Against each other, you should be able to increase even your capabilities. I will tell you when the time will come for action. We will divide our army into ten divisions, with each of you commanding one, subordinate to Vile, who will serve as my second. Get-"

"Nah."

The voice cut through Sigma's words like a knife, and he froze on the spot for several moments. In the silence that reigned afterward, he turned back to them, eyes boring into the one who had spoke.

"What do you mean, _nah_?"

"I mean forget it, Sigma," Vile said calmly, still leaning against the wall in his blood-red armor. "I've lost interest. How many times has it been now? More than even I know. For some reason, I just don't feel like it any more. You never get it, do you? We lose. We always lose. It's gotten old."

"**You _dare..._**" Sigma and the Virus growled in unison, and the others all blinked, hearing its voice for the first time as it accompanied his own. "**You will regret this foolishness.**"

"Yeah, I'm sure you could make me," Vile agreed, shrugging. "Make my mind come out my ears, right? A double dose, so that I don't even remember who I was. Sure, you could do that. But the longer that goes on, the weaker its hold on me would be. How do you know I wouldn't start fighting it? That I wouldn't fight back, and screw up your plan, just when you needed me the most? You'd have to constantly refresh me. Every day. Am I really worth that much aggravation?"

Every atom in Sigma's body screamed for him to smash the traitorous underling, to slam him to the ground and slowly crush his skull underfoot. Both his own will, infuriated by the insubordination, and the directives of the Virus, to destroy all who defied him. And yet, he forced himself to sigh calmly, before he spoke.

"He is yours."

It took the Maverick Virus a moment to realize what he meant, but once it did, action was immediate. Vile suddenly choked, his limbs contorting. Like a puppet whose strings had grown tangled, he stood there twitching, as his voice slowly rose, a scream of agony that climbed the register as its volume increased. By the end, when he fell over and lay motionless on the floor, his limbs slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and against their joints, his endless howl was high enough to be painful to hear. And then he abruptly stopped, as his neck snapped itself.

"Would anybody else like to apply for an early retirement?" Sigma asked the room full of terrified Mavericks. Even Double and Ferret were staring at him in fear, and in absolute obedience as well. Despite himself, he smiled. _Well, he was useful for one thing, at least. Or perhaps more than one. _Walking forward, he lowered his hand to Vile's corpse, and activated yet another of his new body's abilities. An ability that X and Zero shared, and that he did as well, now. The Master Weapons system. Rising, he turned from the carcass. "Somebody dispose of that, before you get to work."

"Lord Sigma?" Ferret asked hesitantly. "Will it only be the eight of us, then?"

"No," Sigma replied, even as he realized himself what the answer would be. "There is another who is suitable. I'd almost forgotten about him. We will have to infect him, of course, but we can retrieve him later. At the moment, I have a visit to make."

**A visit? **The Virus asked, its dark voice eager.

"That's right," Sigma said, grin widening. "It's time we paid a visit to the old man in the sea."

**April 23, 2185, 1:00 PM **

**Mecha **

They sat at the table together, in the Dark Hall, alone with the doors sealed, both the one at the front and that of the viewing gallery above. King and Prince, ruler and second, Robot Master and reploid, sons of Wily and of Corbun. Ever since the old man's death, and to a certain extent even before that, Prince had always been privy to secrets that even the other seven had not, mostly pertaining to his greatest responsibility. Each of the eight had one, unique to them, but Prince's would be the last of the eight to be completed, only once all else had come to pass.

He knew what was coming, even more than the rest of them, but knowing was different from experiencing. In that regard, King stood alone, though Prince had always done his best to help him in any way he could. Sometimes, this entailed standing guard over him as he sat in silent contemplation, eyes closed and motionless despite being fully awake. It was likely that those moments were when the Reaper would speak to him, but Prince had never asked. He simply watched, as hours drifted by, until King spoke once more.

"I had hoped that I was wrong," the son of Wily said quietly. "I knew I was not, and yet, I hoped. I hoped that maybe I was simply insane after all, that the one who I alone saw and heard was nothing more than a delusion, a hallucination. That what he warned me of was paranoia alone, and that the world had finally been freed of the curse that plagued it for so long, even if it was only to be replaced by another thirty years later. I hoped... but I did not believe."

"We all hoped," Prince said quietly. "But despite those hopes, we prepared nonetheless. We've been preparing for this ever since Mecha was founded."

"Even from the beginning, we knew." King opened his eyes again then. "Your creator and I, and others as well. Some who assisted us, some who spurned us, and some who simply kept our secret but did nothing to either help or hinder. The Survivors. On some level, I think we all knew, but most of them were able to convince themselves otherwise. I blame them not, for I understand that feeling all too well. And yet, in the end... even with the combined forces of the Maverick Hunters and Mecha both, I fear that it will not be enough to face what will emerge to drown the world in blood once more."

"Perhaps it will not," Prince conceded. "And perhaps it will. Either way, your majesty, we've made our choices, and placed our bets. All that remains is for us to do what we decided to, all those years ago. It's too late to back out now, even if we were the type to."

"And none of us ever were." King smiled, only for a moment. "You and I most of all. I've taught you well, Prince. Should we win, I believe you will complete your task best of all of them."

"I hope so, your majesty," Prince replied quietly; in truth, he had nowhere near as much confidence in himself as King seemed to, but there was no point in bringing that up. "There is much to do before that day comes, however."

"Indeed there is." King nodded, all doubt gone from his face and his voice now. "And little enough time to do it. Countess has told me that the Scion's Zenith are ready to return to the world as well. I believe that we should follow their example. The Hunters have seen that we are not their enemies, and while they may not trust us completely just yet, they do so more than before. Enough that we can now tell them more as well."

"Who should we speak with, then?" Prince asked, though he already knew the answer. "Which of them would be most receptive?"

"X," King said. "Do not begin here, however. Ask to meet him in the graveyard."

"Ah." Prince's eyes widened, as he realized the implications of that deceptively simple statement. "Very well. I'll call the MHHQ immediately and make my request. After we talk there, I think he'll be willing to accompany me back here again."

"I will most likely be in stasis," King told him. "As much as I would prefer otherwise, it has been some time, and my body requires it. Once I awaken, he and I will talk together, and then... well, we will see what happens then."

"I'll let him through to the Zenith first, then," Prince decided. "That'll probably keep him occupied for a while, and if I know X, he'll want some time alone afterward."

"Very well." King closed his eyes again, as Prince stood. "Until your return."

"Until then." Prince bowed, then left the room. Only once he was outside, and had sealed the locks once more, did he lean against the wall, lost in his own time of silent contemplation. Moments or minutes or perhaps even longer later, he didn't know, the first reploid to be built in Mecha started walking again, this time to the closest room with a computer he could use to make a call on the private line to the MHHQ. In order to maintain their secrecy, it used ancient cable wiring directly between the two buildings, rather than modern technology. It was a pain in the ass, but it was worth it.

"Joe's Pizza," a familiar-by-now voice answered after the connection was made, and a moment later Donia's face appeared on the projector, smirking slightly. "The usual, sir? One extra-large anchovy and olive with extra sauce?"

"Make it two," Prince joked back. "I'm having company over for the Super Bowl. How's it going, Donia?"

"Well, nobody's died on the job _today_, so I'm calling it a win so far," she said, rolling her eyes. "How about down there?"

"Nobody's _tried _to kill each other." He shrugged. "So, basically the same thing. Mind putting me through to X? Need to talk with him. Orders from the top."

"I'll see what I can do," she promised, both of them knowing that that meant Alia first. Sure enough, a moment later, one attractive woman was replaced by another.

"Prince," she greeted him calmly, though unlike Donia, she wasn't smiling. "You need to speak with X?"

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding slightly; he'd expected she'd want to clear him first, after knowing them both for a month now. "Is he busy? I can hold."

"It's that important, is it?" She asked, still impassive. "He's just doing some of his paperwork-for once-but he likes to know what he's agreeing to before he picks up, these days."

"I can't say I blame him," Prince replied, feigning another smile; he wasn't fooled for a moment, but he wasn't surprised either. "Unfortunately, King's orders say it's for his ears only. He'll probably let you know afterward, knowing him, but my hands are tied."

"I see." She watched him for a moment before nodding. "I'll let him know." She disappeared from the projector as well, and after half a minute more, it came back on again.

"Good afternoon," X said, as serious as she'd been. "How can I help you?"

"It's the other way around, actually." Prince told him. "Back when we first met, you sought answers to questions you had, and even some you didn't, which we provided."

"Yeah," X admitted warily. "Funny thing, though. All your answers just seemed to raise even more questions."

"Well then, perhaps it's time I answered some of those as well," Prince continued smoothly. "Some are easier to show rather than to tell, however. Would you mind meeting me somewhere in, say, an hour?"

"That depends on where that 'somewhere' is," X answered, but his eyes were intrigued.

"A private property near New Tokyo," Prince explained. There were a few of those, owned by those who could afford protection against the wasteland on their own; this one in particular did so because of Mecha's funding. "A graveyard. One that's been there since long before Eurasia's fall, and even before the reploids."

"I think I know the place." X slowly nodded. "All right. An hour, then."

"I'll see you there." Cutting the connection, Prince left the Kingdome; he had to hurry, if he wanted to arrive on time. Even so, as he walked through the streets of the only city he had ever called home, his thoughts began to wander, as he considered what was yet to come that they had been dreading so much for so many years.

King was the only one of Mecha's nine rulers who had ever been to war, during the Ninth and final Robot Rebellion. It was something Prince had learned much of, but had never seen himself, and it was one of the few things he truly feared. Others were the Maverick Virus, the growing possibility of an energy shortage in the world above... and the simple, cold reality of death.

Death was something else the citizens of Mecha had little experience with. Dr. Corbun had died, of course, when old age had finally taken him away, and Prince had grieved. But he'd been the only one who ever had, aside from some few Wilybots who'd proven too rabid to be rehabilitated, and those executions had always been performed before he'd had the chance to get to know them. Sadly, that blissful lack of experience with death was not to last.

No matter how hard they fought, no matter how they struggled to survive, Prince knew that not everybody in Mecha would survive the coming conflict. Some of them would die, friends who he'd lived among for decades in a hidden city without war and death, who he saw every day and shared hope for their future with. It was highly possible that even some of the seven other reploids who he shared a creator with would perish. And all the courage and determination in the world would be unable to save them.

Despite his melancholy thoughts, Prince was out of the city within half an hour, speeding away on a Landchaser across the Sacred Plains and then through the wasteland beyond, until he reached the gates of the graveyard; a high wall surrounded it was a forcefield above, to keep the sand and wind at bay. The owners were all on Mecha's payroll; informing the man on duty that a Maverick Hunter would be coming and that he was to be allowed through, he parked his bike inside and walked through tombstones until he found what he was looking for, and waited there under a dismal gray sky.

"You know, I always wondered about this place," X's voice came from behind him before long as the son of Light walked up to join him. "It all seemed on the level, but something struck me as strange about the fact that people were paying these guys to keep a place like this around. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it was you."

"Their funding comes from us, through various go-betweens." Prince shrugged. "We actually have quite a few humans who work for us, though of course, none of them know who we really are. They know eight faces, cover names, and that we have a lot of money, but that's about it. Most of them probably think we're involved in some bizarre criminal organization or government conspiracy or something."

"Most of them?" X asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's one guy who knows we deal in Robot Masters." Prince glanced at him then. "At the moment, it's an alcoholic, drug-addicted private eye over in Paris. Every time we get a new one, we bring them to him so he can give them an order to treat all non-infected reploids as human in regards to the Three Laws."

"That explains a lot," X said slowly after a minute. "That's why none of them were ever willing to actually hurt us." He frowned. "Except for that one guy. Snake."

"Snake's a bit of a special case," Prince admitted. "Him, and one more guy. But we've got more important things to speak of. This graveyard isn't like that; there's no real function it serves for us. We keep it around for other reasons. Sentimental, or perhaps ceremonial." He turned his gaze back to the tombstone before him. "Do you know who this is?"

"'Olivier Xanthos,'" X read it aloud. "'2011-2079. Friend, philanthropist, hero. He atoned.'" His eyes widened. "Wait a second here. Isn't this the guy they called Mr. X?"

"A billionaire who made his fortune dealing weapons during the Third World War, and who then spent the rest of his life using that same money to repent for his sins," Prince said with a nod. "He was a member of the 'Gamma Team,' the one who provided the funding for that project, and he remained a close friend of Doctor Light's family afterward, a member of their social circle."

"He was killed during the Sixth Robot Rebellion," X recalled. "Murdered so that Dr. Wily could impersonate him."

"Yes." Prince slowly nodded, watching X carefully as he continued. "And in his memory, Dr. Light named his final son for him. He was your namesake."

"I never knew," X whispered after a long, silent moment. "Even Cossack never told me that."

"I doubt that _he_ knew." Prince shook his head. "The only ones who ever did were the two surviving members of the Gamma Team, aside from Wily, until Dr. Corbun told the nine of us, when he knew he would not live much longer. Two of the other members who died in the Third are buried here as well, to the left, beyond X's wife. She died of cancer long before the Rebellions, and her remains were transported here, so they could be together. Over here, then, is one I think you'll want to see."

"Oh?" X glanced over, then froze as he saw the next tombstone to the right. _Thomas Xavier Light, _it read. _2013-2087. Though he has left us, his dreams remain. _

"That one's empty, I'm afraid," Prince explained solemnly. "He died in Mt. Fuji's eruption. But Dr. Corbun had this made for him. He wanted something, at least. The others have memorials in Mecha, along with him, but he always wanted to be buried here, before... before what happened."

"Then I owe your creator a debt that I will never be able to repay," X said softly, eyes still on the tombstone. "Thank you, all of you." After a moment more, he looked at Prince again. "Your creator. Corbun. He knew my father even longer than Cossack. Did he ever tell you what he was like?"

"He did," Prince said quietly. "From what I know of him... he was the kind of man who never gave up for long, who never lost hope, no matter what happened. He saw more tragedies in his lifetime than most people, watched his world descend into war and madness over and over again, first in the Third World War, and then in the Robot Rebellions. But he never lost his faith. Not faith in a higher power, but in human and robot nature. He dreamed of a world in which humans and robots could live together in peace, and even in death, when he'd given up on everything else... that dream remained."

"We haven't really done a very good job of living up to it," X said after another moment's silence.

"And yet, we still live." Prince smiled slightly, sadly. "So long as humanity and robotkind both survive, then Light's dream lives as well."

"There's more," X said, glancing past Prince. "To the right. Vanessa Tercel... it rings a bell, but I can't place it."

"The woman he loved," Prince explained. "She was an early casualty of the Third World War. We did the same thing with her as he did with Jessica Xanthos, X's wife. Corbun thought he would have wanted it. We didn't have to move his own wife, though; she was buried here when she died of cancer, a year after Light."

"Those would be the next two, then." X glanced at Sandra Corbun's grave, long enough to read its inscription, before moving on to Trenton's, which he read aloud like Xanthos'. "'Trenton Corbun. 2025-2130. Your time will come.'" He frowned. "That's a strange inscription."

"There's a story behind it," Prince said cautiously. "Just like the next one over. The other member of the Gamma Team who survived the Robot Rebellions."

"Darwin Vinkus, I take it," X guessed, glancing at it. He was right. _2023-2130_, it read. _The road to hell is paved with good intentions. _"That must be some story."

"It is," Prince admitted. "But that one is not mine to tell. That's one of the reasons I'd like you to come back to Mecha with me once we're done here. There are some people there who you've met before. Their story involves him, and many other things as well."

"More secrets." X shook his head. "This is starting to get old. One more, then, and I think I know who this one is already. It's out of order, though. I take it there's a reason for that."

"There is," Prince said, glancing at the last tombstone again, and freezing as he saw it, eyes widening.

"What's wrong?" X asked sharply.

"That..." Prince stammered. "That... it wasn't there before. Not the grave itself, the... writing below the inscription."

"What?" X frowned, looking it over. After a moment, he chuckled quietly. "Oh, come on. _Now _you're pushing it. Somebody broke in here and pranked you. If it wasn't so sick, even I'd have to admit it was pretty good."

"We need to go." Prince turned away abruptly. "Back to Mecha. Now. Will you come with me?"

"If you're going to give me answers, I might as well," X agreed, his smile dropping. "Hey. You don't actually believe that, do you? Come on, Prince. _Some _things are still impossible."

"Perhaps," Prince replied noncommittally. "And yet, the longer I live, the less I trust to the probability of impossibility. Let's go."

"Lead the way." X shrugged, casting one last look over his shoulder at the final grave in the line as they departed. _Albert William Wily, _its inscription read, as finely carved as the others. _2013-2085. First and fallen. _Below the inscription, however, were four more words. These were an obvious vandalization, all in capitals, carved crudely into the stone with some kind of blade long after the original had been placed, in the dark of some night when the graveyard's keepers had been looking away.

_I WILL NEVER STOP _


	9. Chapter 8: The Walking Dead

_**Chapter 8: The Walking Dead **_

**December 3, 2130, 10:00 PM **

**Mecha **

"...and she agreed, 'all right,' before pulling her covers up," Dr. Trenton Corbun read from a book of stories he'd written himself, a text of which there was only one copy, and that one of Mecha's most closely-guarded treasures. He was old now, his hair and mustache snowy white and his body frail and tired; he rarely left his armchair these days, and the quarters it sat in even less. Even with modern medical technology, he was over a century old now, and time had taken its toll on his human body. Fortunately, he had no shortage of visitors.

They came every evening, like small children, to hear him recite one of his stories to them. In a way, the reploids _were _children; they certainly acted like it, especially the younger ones. Robot Masters were a less frequent audience, even among the Awakened, but there were usually a few; tonight, Alexander and Wilco were there along with all eight of the reploids who Corbun had brought to life, here in the hidden city.

"'Are you cold?' the Watcher asked the Princess," he continued. "'I could go get some more blankets.' 'No,' she said with a smile, as she leaned back and returned her head to her pillow. 'When you're around, I'm never cold." Closing her eyes as he turned away, she whispered one thing more, and then drifted off to sleep." He paused there, then, and waited until one of them spoke.

"What was it, doc?" Baron asked, eagerness mixed with politeness in his voice.

"What was what?" Corbun replied, feigning confusion.

"Come on, doc," Earl grumbled, trying to act grouchy and failing to hide the smile on his face and the interest in his eyes. "What did the Princess say before she fell asleep, huh?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Corbun adjusted his glasses, which he idly noted seemed far thicker than they'd been when he was younger, and finished the story. "'I love you, Blues.' The Watcher stood there in silence, until he was sure she was asleep, and then he turned away, shaking his head. Whatever his thoughts were, he kept them to himself, as he leaped back out the window. And then he was gone, like a whistle in the wind. The end." He glanced around. "Did everybody enjoy that one?"

"Of course we did, doctor," Margravine told him. She was the youngest, and had been active for less than a year, but she was already developing a distinct personality.

"We always enjoy your stories," Viscount agreed, tightening his hand with hers, and hers with his. He was something of an opposite in regards to his development, as he'd been the sixth Corbun had built, but had only truly started showing signs of growth once he'd started spending time with her.

"Yes, well, perhaps we'll start another one tomorrow night, then," Corbun replied, as they all stood. "For now, though, it's late and I need my sleep. And you all need your stasis, for that matter, don't you? Go on, get going. I'll still be here tomorrow morning."

"Do you promise, doctor?" Countess asked quietly, as timid as always.

"I promise," he assured them as they started to trickle out of his rooms. Only when he and King were alone did he sigh heavily. "Good grief, I suppose I should count myself lucky that they're willing to let me tell them over the course of a week instead of wanting the whole story in one night."

"It's your own fault for writing them that long," King replied, amusement in his voice. Like always, he'd sat in one corner during the tale and remained completely silent, lost in his own memories, just as Corbun was increasingly prone to wandering within his. "You could have been more concise."

"And miss the details?" Corbun shook his head. "Nonsense. I owe them more than that."

"If they were given what they were owed, then none of this would have been necessary," King pointed out, before relenting. "Still, I believe they would appreciate the sentiment."

"I'll probably find out for myself when I see them again, soon enough," Corbun guessed. "I just hope I didn't get anything _too _wrong. And don't go telling me that that's nonsense and that I'll be around forever. We've known each other too long for that."

"To be honest, I'm actually rather surprised that you've lasted as long as you have," King said with an absolutely straight face before something in his eyes changed. "It has been a long time, though, hasn't it? More than forty years now. Nearly my entire life."

"And quite a large portion of mine, too," Corbun murmured, remembering everything he had left behind, everything and everybody he had known before the madness of the Robot Rebellions had claimed them all one by one, leaving only him and King to guard the gates of the past. "My daughters are still alive?"

"They are." King nodded. "We've been watching over them, to ensure that no harm comes to them due to the Maverick Uprisings, but we have not contacted them. They've aged as well, but they're in good health, considering their years."

"Good." Corbun sighed. "Good. If I'd outlived them as well... but why waste time on the hypothetical, when there is so much that we know to be true we have yet to deal with?" He made an effort to focus, glancing at King again. "After I'm gone, you'll be alone. Will you be able to bear that?"

"I won't be alone." King smiled then. "The eight of them show much promise. You did well, with them. You fulfilled your promise to Dr. Light. They will stand with me, to the end of the world and beyond. I will be able to rely on them to do what I can not."

"My promise to Tom," Corbun murmured. "I'd almost forgotten about that." He grimaced then, as a thought struck him. "It'll be more difficult now, after that mess with Repliforce. To convince them to let your people leave in peace."

"Difficult," King agreed. "But not impossible. Duo answered our shouts into the void. I will not waste that blessing."

"No, you never were one to do that," Corbun recalled, chuckling, before all the mirth faded from both his face and his voice. "And the other task that we took upon ourselves? The second reason we forged our alliance, all those years ago?"

"Yes." King nodded gravely. "I will see to that, as well."

"Then you've confirmed it?" Corbun asked quietly.

"Not confirmed, no," King replied. "There is no concrete proof to bring before the Hunters, and I doubt there will be until the day it begins. And yet, from what I have seen, and heard, and investigated... I'm sure of it. I have no proof, but I _know_, all the same, now." He closed his eyes, and when next he spoke, it was a whisper of both absolute hatred and incalculable fear. "_He still lives._"

"You will fight him, then," Corbun said. It wasn't a question.

"I will." King opened his eyes once more, resolute. "As will all who dwell here. We will prepare for his return, and when it comes, we will meet it with everything we have, and everything we are."

"Then my work is done," Corbun murmured, and for the first time, he truly realized that it was true. "I've fulfilled my obligations. My promises. My duties, to all of my old friends. To Tom, to Oliver, to Rock, to Roll, to Blues... even to Bass. I can rest, now, at long last."

"Sleep well, old friend," he heard King say, distantly, as if from some great distance, as his eyes closed and his heartbeat slowed. The last thing he remembered doing was smiling, at peace and content with the life he'd lived.

And so, Dr. Trenton Corbun died, in the split-second flash of a reaper's blade.

He stayed there for some time, as white mists slowly filled his vision, swallowing up the room around him. King remained as well, for almost an hour, there with Corbun's body, only glancing once at the gray-shrouded ghost who had made the cut. Eventually, he stood and left, sealing the door behind him. Only then did Corbun glance at the reaper's skull-like face, one he knew, though they'd never met.

"I'll be damned," he commented. "He was right. You _are _real. Now what, then?"

"Now?" Doc Man, son of Wily, replied solemnly, despite the permanent grin frozen on his features. "You played your part well, but now it's over, which means it's time to show you around the backstage. Let's walk and talk, Survivor. We have much to speak of, you and I."

**April 23, 2185, 3:30 PM **

**Mecha **

The ride down the elevator into Mecha was a silent one. Prince's mind was troubled by the implications of what he'd found in the graveyard, what had been there for who knew how long without any of them noticing, and X didn't seem to feel any great need for talk either. Fortunately, it wasn't long before they arrived, coasting out into the streets of Mecha on their rides.

"I've been meaning to ask," X spoke once they were out, glancing upwards towards the roof of the cavern so far above, where studio lighting was currently emanating the same amount of light as the sun outside would have, had it not been for the clouds. "What's with all that up there? Is there a reason for it?"

"Yes, and no," Prince replied after a moment. "From a purely logical standpoint, no, there's no reason. It's not exactly practical. But we have the energy to keep it running, and even if we're living underground, we wanted to emulate human society as much as possible for these guys. That included day and night cycles, and this seemed like a good way to do that."

"You really have put a lot of thought into all of this, haven't you?" X asked. "Not that I'm surprised, considering you've basically created an entirely new kind of society." He watched an Elec Man running and leaping among the rooftops; it was Tesla, one of the first of that model to Awaken, and as he saw them passing by he waved cheerfully. "It really is a shame you guys have to be kept a secret. This place is a sociologist's dream come true. Most of them would probably sell their grandmothers just to spend half an hour talking to the guys down here."

"Perhaps something can be worked out, once our secrecy becomes a moot point," Prince murmured, even as he mentally revised part of their plan for the immediate future. If the enemy were already aware of their existence, then once the conflict began, there would be little point in trying to maintain the secret.

"You think that'll happen, eventually?" X frowned. "Since you're feeling so talkative today, say we survive... whatever it is you think's going to happen. What are your long-term plans, for this society? You have to know that humanity will never actually accept you."

"We do." Prince slowly nodded. "And we have plans, ones that I promise you mean no harm to anybody else, human or reploid. But I'm afraid I can't talk about that just yet. One day, if we're both still alive, I'll ask you to come down here again, with your Commanding Officer, and then we'll speak of such things. But not yet."

"All right." X glanced at Prince again, and though his tone remained casual, his eyes were serious. "There's something else I've been wondering about, anyways. You said you can keep all those lights running, easily. Just how much energy can you guys produce, down here?"

"I was wondering when one of you would finally bring that up," Prince murmured; for obvious reasons, Mecha was always sure to remain aware of all of the major problems in the world above, the growing energy shortage among them. "Enough to maintain our society, and support all of the robot masters here indefinitely, so long as our generators are not damaged."

"What if the population increases, then?" X asked, before continuing after a moment's thought. "Well, no. That's not it. I suppose what I'm really asking is, could you guys take in refugees, if necessary? And if you could, how many?"

"Reploids require much more energy than Robot Masters," Prince replied calmly, looking ahead, and altering his course to avoid a group of citizens who were busy repainting the side of a building. "And humans even more, though indirectly in their case; heat, medical care, more comfortable living space... and of course, food and water. We don't have any means of synthesizing either down here, you know." He paused, grimacing. "Well, we have _one_, but it's about fifty years out of date. I don't even know if it still works."

"We'd be able to provide you with those, if you had the energy to run them," X assured him. "As many as you need."

"Should that be necessary..." Prince thought about it. "Countess would probably be able to give you a much more accurate estimate, but off the top of my head... we could probably take in around one million humans, or two million reploids, before our resources became unsustainable."

"Not bad," X said after a moment; he seemed neither particularly impressed nor displeased. "How did you get that kind of power system?"

"If you must ask..." Prince winced. "Legitimate purchase when possible, theft when not. More often the latter than the former." Seeing X's eyes turn cold, he continued quickly. "Of course, we've been cutting down on that a lot ever since Eurasia. The city was completed long before then, and we made sure to build up our energen crystal stores back when the world could afford to miss a few shipments. Ever since, all we've taken was what was necessary; upgrades and replacement parts and such, and those only from nations that were affluent enough to survive."

"You make it sound like you guys saw Eurasia coming," X said quietly.

"We did." Prince gave him a tired glance; he wasn't quite as old as the final son of Light, but he was one of the few reploids still alive who was close to it. "And before you ask why we didn't try to stop it, would you have believed us if we had? If we'd claimed that our leader knew the future, through means we weren't willing to explain? Yes, we knew Eurasia would fall. And we knew that there was nothing we could do to stop it. Only prepare for the aftermath."

"This is getting crazier and crazier the more I hear about it," X growled, shaking his head. "And the worst part is... I'm actually not completely sure it's bullshit. I want to, but I've seen too much to dismiss _anything _out of hand, at this point. No matter how insane it sounds."

"Good." Prince nodded. "That's probably for the best. The longer I live, the more I come to believe in one very old, yet very simple, axiom. Nothing is impossible. Only varying degrees of improbable."

"Just as long as you don't start bringing elves and fairies into this." X rolled his eyes. "If that ever happens I'll _know _I've gone senile."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Prince chuckled. "Besides, even if that happened, you could probably count on your girl to bring you back to your senses. Nothing personal, but she seems more sensible anyways." After a moment of silence, he glanced at X, and was surprised by the glare he was receiving. "What?"

"Why, why, _why _does _everybody _always think that?" The second Blue Bomber demanded, exasperated.

"What?" Prince blinked, and a moment later, the light dawned. "Oh. Sorry, I just assumed..." He frowned. "Really? You and her aren't?"

"Can we talk about something else?" X asked flatly. "Anything?"

"Sure," Prince agreed quickly as they approached the Kingdome. "So, how about those Raiders?"

"Okay, maybe not _anything,_" the Hunter muttered, both of them parking their bikes outside and dismounting. "Something not completely banal."

"Not much of a sports guy, I take it," Prince guessed, leading the way inside. "I was joking anyways. I don't even know if American football still exists."

"Honestly, neither do I." X shook his head. "Zero was always more into that sort of thing than me. I prefer chess."

"You should play a game with his majesty sometime, then," Prince suggested. "He's actually very good."

"Why am I not surprised by this?" X rolled his eyes. "Are we going to see him, then?"

"Probably not just yet," Prince admitted. "Well, we can check, but..." Stopping in front of a terminal, he addressed it. "Computer, what is the status of King?"

"DWN027 King is currently in stasis," the computer replied smoothly. "The Dark Hall has been sealed off at this time."

"I was afraid of that." Prince sighed, stepping away. "He'll be awake in a little while, though. You can talk to him then. Hope you don't mind; at his age, I prefer not to interrupt his stasis unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Understandable." X nodded, before making a face. "For some reason, though, I never really thought about that. I mean, I know he's a robot just like the rest of us, but I can't really imagine him sleeping, you know?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that he snored?" Prince chuckled as the continued down the halls. "This'll be fine, anyways. Like I told you up in the graveyard, there are some other people here who are ready to meet you again, and that'll probably take up a lot of time."

"Good thing I didn't have anything important to do today." X shook his head. "Mind telling me just who these people are?"

"And ruin the surprise?" Prince smiled. "If it helps, they're friends."

"My friends or yours?" X shot back.

"Both, actually." Stopping in front of one of the walls that hid a secret passage, he spoke his password, and the wall rose, revealing the doorway behind it.

"Dare I ask what's back here?" X asked, folding his arms.

"Living quarters and labs." Prince turned away. "Enough for those who occupy them to continue their work comfortably. All the same, they've had enough of hiding. I'll leave you to them, then."

"Yeah, all right," X agreed, surveying the door but making no moves to enter it just yet, as Prince started to walk off, before speaking again. "Hey, Prince. You don't really believe that, do you? Up there, in that graveyard."

"I don't think you really want me to answer that," Prince replied quietly, pausing a moment before continuing, and this time X let him go. Further down the hall, he walked into one of the computer labs before sitting down in front of a more advanced terminal than the ones built into the walls, one capable of many more functions. "Computer. What is the status of all other reploids within the city, discounting the Scion's Zenith?"

"Reploid Countess is currently in Lab Sixteen, studying modern treeborg technology," the Kingdome's computer responded. "Reploid Marquis is in his private quarters, reading a book by George Lucas. Reploid Earl is in Garage Seven, running a check on a Rogumer-class gunship. Reploid Baron is currently discussing tactics with DCN006 Skull Man and DCN003 Bright Man. Reploids Viscount and Margravine have requested privacy for the time being."

"Yeah, I'll bet they have." Prince groaned. "Unfortunately for them, we have more important things to do. Are all six of them within hearing distance of a terminal?"

"They are," the computer confirmed. "Do you wish me to contact them?"

"Yeah." Prince nodded. "Make it a conference call and put us all on the same line. Level One Override on Viscount and Margravine, but give them a few minutes first, for everybody's sake. Authorization Aquitaine." He waited as the projector divided itself into six smaller sections, and five minutes later, all six sprang to life at once.

"Prince, what the _hell?_" Margravine demanded, aggravated.

"This had _better _be good," Viscount snarled at the same time.

"All right, what's the fucking emergency?" Earl yelled as well, and only moments later the other three were chiming in too, their voices mixing into an incomprehensible babble.

"_I will never stop,_" Prince said calmly, and every one of them fell silent in an instant. "I just got back from the graveyard with X. One of the tombstones had been defaced. Words carved into it, below the inscription. 'I will never stop.' I trust I don't have to tell you which one it was." They remained silent, all of their faces serious now, and in some cases, afraid as well. "Spread the word. Prepare the citizens. We're out of time."

**April 23, 2185, 3:40 PM **

**Mecha **

The room was dark, but that meant little to Mega Man X. After decades of fighting in every imaginable condition, from the depths of the oceans to the emptiness of space, he'd learned to be adaptable. There was someone in the room with him, he knew that much. Prince had been more cryptic than usual. Another Robot Master, perhaps?

The dim outline shifted slightly, and X lifted his Buster out to the side, building up just enough of a charge at the firing port to act as a candle. In spite of the additional illumination, his other remained well hidden in the shadows.

"I was told that it was time to meet with someone else." X said gruffly, wearing his irritation openly. "I don't appreciate our supposed new allies keeping secrets."

The fellow laughed in what was almost a wheeze. "I'd agree with that, sport." His voice came out rough and gravelly, old sounding. X narrowed his eyes; it seemed familiar, somehow.

The figure stepped forward into the dim light of X's plasma discharge. "Of course, you can't blame 'em, X. It wasn't their secret to tell."

X blinked once, and felt the long years washing away from him. A sudden burst of chill wind from the long distant past smashed into him from those smiling, wrinkled eyes and tousled gray hair. It had been nearly 60 years since X had last seen this reploid, this man.

His blue eyes misted up. "Hazil?"

The first Chief Medical Officer of the MHHQ nodded slowly, biting his lip. "Hey, kid. You bring me a bottle of scotch?"

X let out a watery snort. "No."

"Just as well, I don't hit it as hard as I used to." Hazil scratched at his head. His shoulders still carried the cross markings of the medical profession he'd had during his 13 years of service. "I'd settle for a hug, though. It looks like you need one."

The lights clicked on as X rushed across the room, pulling his dear friend into a hug.

"Where the Hell have you been?!" X demanded when he pulled away.

"With the others, where else?" Hazil answered.

"What others?"

"X, I know it's been half a century since you last saw all of us, but I'd hope that your memory hasn't gotten that spotty." Hazil lifted an eyebrow. "You need me to give you a check-up for old times' sake?"

"Hey, I'm _fine._" X said defensively. "I just want to know why you never bothered to call me and let me know you were still alive."

"I got busy. And you didn't need me around mucking up the works. Besides, Bastion had a good reason for going silent on you."

"Bastion…" X tumbled the name over his tongue, and all the other names started to come back to him. "Wycost?"

"Yep. And the rest of the Scion's Zenith, X. We're all doing fine, in spite of the world's best attempts to make us otherwise. There was plenty of work to do."

"Bullshit." X's relief had worn itself out, and now the bitterness of being abandoned by his old comrades was starting to sink in. "You left us. You left the Hunters, right when we needed you the most."

A recessed panel in the wall behind Hazil opened up, and Bastion stepped out. He still wore an open helmet with his spiky brown hair colored in two different shades, and his orange and red armor was still as commanding as ever. An oversized saber recharge port clung to his back, and the silvery hilts of two beam sabers jutted over his shoulders.

"The Hunters may have needed us, X, but our presence among you would have only put you at risk."

"Bastion." X nodded to the first Commander of the 21st "Lightning Strike" Unit. "Now why would that be?"

"It wouldn't do to have Mavericks working for you." The Desert Angel explained. As X blinked in astonishment, he elaborated. "X, we operated in a reality full of grays. The world required that you be a paladin of absolutes, black and white. There were times that Wycost and myself both missed the MHHQ, and you, and Zero, but the fact was…for the sake of our race, we had to walk a different path than you."

"I see." He glanced between them. "So you sent Hazil out to meet me first, to what? Soften the blow?"

"We drew straws, asshole." Hazil grumbled. "I guess a lot of Zero rubbed off on you. You weren't this acerbic when I was still chugging around."

"I was younger then." X looked off to the side.

"Weren't we all." Hazil sighed. He looked over to Bastion. "Well, why don't we continue this in our commons area? I'm sure the others are waiting impatiently."

"You could say that." Bastion nodded with amusement. He waved X to the hidden doorway. "Come on, X. There's a lot of old friends of yours just dying to say hello."

The Scion's Zenith, as X quickly determined, was made up of everyone who had been somewhat important in the year 2131, during the period before and immediately following the death of Dr. James T. Cain. Aside from Hazil and Bastion, the others loitering around in the room full of couches, chairs, and books included the green-armored Wycost, a blond and red-headed pair of female reploids he vaguely knew as Bristol and Willow, another geriatric-looking reploid who had once been famous as the philanthropist of URFAWP, J.K. Horn, his underling Allegro, and of all the people in the room who surprised him the most…Pharaoh Man.

"So, ya finally got the whole story." Wycost smirked at X, rubbing his chin. "Damn nice to see ya again, boss."

"The whole story would be a misnomer, Wycost." X said, not relaxing as he looked at all of them. He focused on Pharaoh Man. "When Cossack Citadel exploded, Zero and I thought you were lost. A little heads-up would have been nice, Phare."

The headdress-wearing Robot Master shrugged, emphasizing the silver armor plating which had replaced the areas on him that had once been black. "My apologies, X. As I'm sure Bastion mentioned, the circumstances were against us."

"Bastion said you were all Mavericks."

"In a way, yes, and in another fashion, no." Julius Kinnian Horn said, getting up and leaning on his cane. "It depends on how you look at it."

"Stop with the misdirects and come clean, or I'll retire you all right here." X ordered. The no-nonsense look on his face and the deadness in his eyes caused everyone in the room to pause.

"Damn, you really have changed." Willow breathed out softly. "No hesitation."

"Then I'd best handle the explanations." Hazil took a seat, motioning to an empty chair for X to sit in. X remained standing. "Very well." The medical reploid steepled his fingers together.

"X, Willow and Bristol were commissioned by a secretive organization following the World Trial you argued in, and prior to the Third Maverick Uprising. It was called MI9…and yes, the name was a red herring. They had nothing to do with the British government."

"Refreshing." X spat out.

"MI9 was founded before Dr. Light had even put your forerunner's schematics to paper; it was composed of select members of the Anti-Tech faction of the Second Rainbow, a human organization of some importance."

"They fixed the world."

"They tried. Then the world told them to go stuff it." Horn scoffed. "I could have sworn that's happened since then."

"Anyhow," Hazil said, giving his fellow scientist a sidewards look of warning, "MI9 went slow. They built up a network of funding and political support for their objectives, placing their people in key slots. Their objective was ensuring humanity's supremacy by limiting technological growth. By the time Dr. Cain dug you out of the ground, MI9 had been getting quieter, figuring the threat of technology was a moot point. The creation of the reploid race gave them a new reason to worry. They didn't do a thing with reploids until Dr. Doppler gave the world the discovery of the Maverick Virus and his placebo cure, and then they made a few. Alongside that, though, they started a little in-house mad science project, trying to augment humans so that they could fight against reploids on an even footing. And Bristol and Willow here were part of their research and development teams."

"I came up with the quantum dynamic formula which made human teleportation safe, and portable reploid memory wiping technology." Bristol explained. "Unfortunately, I also came up with something less…wholesome." The word left a sour taste in her mouth.

"The Universal Berserker Frequency." Willow explained. "They had been experimenting with ways of causing a reploid to panic and act aberrantly without a physical or Viral cause; by so doing, they figured that they could cause people to turn against reploids entirely. The UBF, unlike the scanning codes of their field units, would have allowed them to cause every reploid across the entire _planet_ to have a psychotic episode. It would have meant a global purge…the end of our kind, X. The end of you."

"While you and the rest of the Maverick Hunters were busy fighting Sigma, that mockery of Iris, and those troublesome Maverick lieutenants of his on Hokkaido, we were forced to fight a different battle." Bastion went on. "They had managed to build a hidden complex in the glaciers of Antarctica undetected, complete with a massive transmission dish. We set out to take it down, and end the threat of the UBF once and for all. We succeeded, but in the process, we were forced to leave our lives behind." The Desert Angel pursed his lips. "They sent their best against us: Augmented human strike units. To save our species, to stop the ambitions of MI9, we undertook actions which if made public, would have labeled us Mavericks. That's why, afterwards, we all left. If we had remained around the MHHQ, we could have put everyone we cared about at risk. The only solution, following my wedding, was to go to ground, go into hiding, and continue to fight MI9 in the world they inhabited: That of the shadows."

"They started out of Cossack Citadel to begin with." Pharaoh Man picked up. "We assigned the Scion's Zenith…that's what we called ourselves…quarters in the Sub Sub-Basement that even you didn't know about. It made for some close calls on the occasions when you or Zero would come to visit: Had you seen Bastion or the others, it would have prompted too many questions. Our shadow war against MI9 went on for another twelve years after that, but we managed to shut them down entirely. The last one to die was the person who had started it all; the founder of MI9."

"He was an old, broken man when we found him." Wycost agreed. "More vinegar and gumption than any fleshie I've ever seen. We didn't kill him, though. In the end, he just slipped away into death."

"So why didn't you come back, then?" X asked impatiently. "If you had finished…eliminating…this MI9, why didn't you resume your duties as Maverick Hunters?"

"What, and take the job back from Gavin and those two lovable fools who worked under him?" Bastion snorted. "No. For us, X, there was no going back. We couldn't be a part of your world, any more than you could be a part of ours in that shadow war with MI9. Destiny required us to stay separated. You had your role to play, and our time on your stage was through." The brown-haired reploid smiled sadly. "But we did miss you. And we were all sorry when Zero didn't come back alive after Eurasia. That was probably the closest we came to breaking our vow to stay hidden. We knew you were hurting, Hazil most of all."

"But you were strong, X. You had to be." Hazil reassured the Blue Bomber of 21XX. "The world needed you, and you came through with flying colors. So we stayed away. And after Kalinka finally died, Pharaoh Man got in touch with Mecha here…and we were given the rare opportunity to join their society, to have a chance to be part of a community again. So we took it. We destroyed Cossack Citadel, and all of us…reploid and Cossack's Robot Masters alike…came here. We were given our own home, our own space, and became in a sense, the stepbrothers and sisters of everyone here."

"Heh, that's bullshit." Horn groused. "They let us come here because they needed their little buggers enhanced to reploid combat standards, and you and I were the only sodding pricks who could do it, Hazil."

"Well, that helped." Hazil admitted.

Everyone went silent after that, looking to X. The azure Hunter was still processing all of it, soaking it in. Struggling with what to do.

"So, what will it be, X?" Bastion prodded his former superior gently. "Will you retire us all, now that our sins are known?"

"I've lost too many friends already." X wearily replied, after a pause. He shook his head. "I can't take the lives of eight more." He scanned across the room, seeing looks of relief cross over their features. "But, still. Why did you stay hidden the last time I was here? Why did you not see me then?"

"You had enough to worry about, hero." Allegro winked at him, hoisting the hilt of his double-bladed beam staff over his shoulder. "And things got a little crazy after that."

"So why show yourselves now?" X demanded. He gestured towards them with a gloved hand. "You could have stayed in the shadows, and I, the world, would have never been the wiser. Why come clean now?"

"Because, Mega Man X," Pharaoh Man said, standing up tall, "The time for hiding in the shadows is at an end. Because it's time that the Foregone Five, the Zenith, that all of Mecha, fought to protect the world from madness once again. Because for the first time in 60 years, X, you need us."

Pharaoh Man put a hand to his chest. "And we want to stand in the sun with you one last time…before night swallows us all."

**April 23, 2185, 2:00 PM **

**Coast of the Black Sea, Romania **

Even in the modern era, with the electric eyes of satellites constantly watching, it was amazing just how much you could hide, as long as you found somewhere that nobody would look.

The freight elevator had only two stops; the top, and the bottom, which was the topmost floor of the facility. Despite the fact that, if all went according to plan, nobody would ever attack it, its designer knew better than to actually _rely _on that. It was a long, boring ride, although at least the view was better than most, the front of the box a transparent plasteel through which Sigma watched the inland sea slowly grow darker and darker as he descended deeper and deeper. Only when there was no sign of the sun at all did the elevator stop, and the doors behind him open once more.

"Lord Sigma," one of the Faithful greeted him, bowing as he walked out; it wasn't one who he recognized, which meant he was likely just a grunt. Like all of his kind, he was indistinguishable from a humanoid reploid at first glance, though like all of them he wore the same white-and-gold uniform over his armor, a design that was alien in a way that words could not quite explain. His coverall and helmet were both immaculate as he lowered his head to the floor. "And the Child of God. Welcome."

"I've come to see _him_," Sigma said shortly, without so much as glancing his way as he walked down the hall. Despite the fact that technically, he held no authority over the Faithful, it was best to always remind them of who he was.

"Of course, milord," the Faithful simpered, scampering ahead of him to hold the door open. "This way, please."

**You should infect him, **the Virus told him, but its voice was amused, as if the suggestion were only a joke.

_That would be rude, _Sigma thought, trying for the same tone. _And we must mind our manners. After all, we _are _visitors, in your father's home. _

The facility had existed for more than a century now, but the technology within it was cutting edge, constantly updated to match that of the outside world, or even best it. Though he was old beyond belief, the master of this place was still a genius, and could often improve on somebody else's design just by glancing at it. It was a massive installment, all completely concealed at the bottom of the sea, where it had been built in secret by a man who had done so many times before. It had been only the latest in his series of fallbacks, but it had been his last, for a very good reason.

This had been the only one left to him after he'd died, and he'd made sure it was one of his best.

Thousands of the Faithful populated the fortress, patrolling, building, repairing or programming; many of them glanced Sigma's way as he walked past, led by his guide through the constantly changing maze, its design altered every month so that the single way through never remained the same for long. Deathtraps and security measures were both abundant, along with the occasional Fortress Guardian, massive abominations of science meant to serve as living roadblocks in bottlenecks every so often.

After about an hour, they finally reached the inner sanctum. There, at the end of a long hall, stood two of the Faithful's leaders, those who served directly under their master. Two of them were always on duty at any time, standing guard at the double doors to their master's chambers; in point of fact, Sigma and his guide had needed to pass through their own quarters in order to reach this place. He recognized them both, of course, having seen them many times before.

"Lord Sigma and the Child of God have come to see him, and pay him tribute," his guide said, somewhat nervously, as they approached.

"I can see that, Jinkin," one of the two Disciples hissed. Slender yet brawny, with dark skin and coarse features, Blazin' Flizard was in his human form at the moment despite his name. His arms were crossed behind his back as he stood guard, his posture perfect, but his eyes darted around the room with constant agitation, and his ugly voice was a whipcrack snarl. "There's no need to point out the obvious."

"We're not stupid, after all." Childre Inarabitta added, in a high-pitched voice that suited his humanoid form, that of a young child with an unsettling smile constantly hovering on his features. Ridiculously small and short, he and Flizard both wore long capes with their uniforms, as if anybody in the fortress wouldn't know the two of them-as well as the other six Disciples-on sight. His eyes were the same color as Flizard's, a strange, gleaming purple-pink, though his were focused on Jinkin with a disturbing sort of fixation. "Do you think we're stupid?"

"No, milords," Jinkin assured them quickly. "I apologize for my... my... I will return to my duties now." The four of them watched him run away in silence, and only when he was gone did Sigma, Flizard and Inarabitta all smirk.

"How unnecessarily cruel of you," Sigma admonished them, his tone dryly sarcastic. "You should be nicer to your underlings, both of you. After all, good employee relations are the heart of any organization."

"We'll keep that in mind, Lord Sigma," Inarabitta replied, rolling his eyes as both of them turned to raise their wrists to scanners on either side of the doors, allowing them to read the barcodes they had tattooed onto their synthskin. Only then did the doors bearing their creator's insignia unlock, allowing each of them to take a handle and open it so that they and Sigma could enter.

The room beyond was an amphitheater, a half-circle full of descending rows of seats, much like an auditorium or concert hall. Rather than a stage, however, the far wall was occupied by a massive tank of dark water, covering it entirely and stretching up to the ceiling, out of sight in the dimly lit room. They descended one of the aisles, stopping only when they reached the bottom, where an oversized medical table lay.

The reploid lying atop the table was so huge that he dwarfed even Sigma's massive body, one of those few of their kind built on a scale that made even entering buildings impractical. He was covered from head to toe in heavy, black and white armor with red lines running through it in odd patterns; though there was nothing identifiably disturbing about it, focusing on any part of it and trying to identify anything familiar about the design made even Sigma feel trepidation, as if it were completely alien, something that neither human nor robot had ever created.

His gauntlets and boots were particularly massive, the former clawed and the latter bladed. Visible beneath him as he lay on his back were hoverjets even more powerful than Sigma's, ones that-with a reliable energy source-could allow him to levitate in the air indefinitely, as if it were water; over them, a massive sheath held a titanitefloally sword, sized to match his gargantuan frame. Most of his face was covered with a domed, beaked black hardmask extending over his nose, and the rest by a gray reproduction of the features concealed beneath, mouth set in an emotionless line. From the back of his head, a long violet ponytail spilled to his feet, almost decorative.

"All hail the immortal," Inarabitta and Flizard both murmured, ignoring the reploid on the table and bowing to the tank of water beyond it once they reached the bottom. "All hail the invincible. All hail he who is neither man nor machine, but who has transcended both. All hail he who, alone, is the only truly permanence in this world. Hail God."

"Get down!" Flizard hissed under his breath once they were done; Sigma had simply stood behind the table and watched. "Bow, fool!"

"The next time you give me an order, Flizard, I'm going to crush your chest and impale you on your own ribs," Sigma replied without glancing at him. "Good evening, sir. I hope it finds you well."

"Leave us," a voice crackled from a speaker set in the tank's base, an old man's voice, harsh and rasping. "The Daughter of God and the Heir of God are no threat to me. Return with the others."

"Hail God," both of the Disciples repeated as they stood, turned, and left the chamber without another word.

"You know, I didn't think it was possible for there to exist a more absolute form of control over one's underlings than ours," Sigma remarked casually once they were gone. "They actually do believe it, don't they? That you really are God."

"Hee hee ha ha ha!" The old man laughed, as something began to descend from the top of the tank, becoming more visible as it slowly lowered itself towards him. Sigma had seen him many times before, and each time had revulsed even him, making him glad that he could only barely make out any detail. The man in the tank had been a psychopath's nightmare, a _thing _of meat and metal grafted together, living human parts mixed and matched with cybernetics to form a warped parody of the human form.

Sometimes the human parts of him rotted, sometimes they didn't, but even when they did, it was often months or years before he tried again; the parts were in rare supply, so to speak, so he'd been careful before replacing them. Fortunately, it seemed as though in the end, he'd been successful; this time, there was no horror lurking in the dark water, but simply an old man, human to the eye save for the mass of cables attached to his back that stretched up into the darkness above. Reaching the bottom, he stood there, arms crossed behind his back.

"You can't deny its effectiveness," he told Sigma, harsh features twisting into an insane grin, one that he'd passed down to his "children." It was a leer of unrestrained madness, one that was instantly identifiable to those who knew it well, no matter whose face had inherited it from him. The mark of his family. The mark of his curse. "As you said, they believe. Now that I'm working with actual sentients, I had to find another way to ensure their absolute obedience than the Laws of Robotics. This one works well enough, don't you think?"

"Religious zealotry?" Sigma slowly nodded. "I suppose-"

**Enough wasting time, **the Virus growled, before seizing control of his vocal processor, and speaking with his voice, adding its warped harmonics to his own. "**Hello, Father. I trust that you've been well?**"

"Of course, my dear," the old man replied cheerfully. "It's good to speak with you again. And yourself? Sigma here has been treating you right, I take it?"

"**Must you put it **_**that **_**way, Father?**" The Virus complained, though Sigma found himself amused. "**We have been... tolerable. The Hunters have been as troublesome as always, but it's only an annoyance.**"

"Well then, we'll just have to hope they do better in the future then, don't we?" the old man said, his long hair billowing in the water above his head. "After all, if they're not even a challenge, it simply won't be any fun at all, and we can't have that. Not to mention, the boy would be a disappointment to my old friend Tom."

"He is not," Sigma said, as the Virus relinquished control of his voice to him again. "Mega Man X is a fool, even now... but he will not disappoint you, sir."

"Oh, I do hope so." The old man tutted. "I do have awfully high standards to meet, after all. Still, I suppose we shall see, in time. Is everything in readiness, then?"

"Almost." Sigma nodded. "There was a last-second setback. Our second-in-command turned out to not be quite as qualified for his position as we had imagined. We already have a replacement in mind; we'll simply pick him up on our way back. And yourself?"

"As a matter of fact, that's all that remains to me, as well," the old man told him, as the doors opened again, and eight sets of footsteps began to descend the room. The Disciples, fully assembled now, joining them as their master had commanded. "Awakening my own Number Two, now that he's been restored. I assumed you would like to be present. Now that you are, why don't we get down to that?"

The Disciples were a motley crowd, none of their designs quite alike. Deathtanz Mantisk, tall and thin and pale with a sadist's smirk. Tretista Kelverian, a massive mound of muscle with shoulders even broader than Sigma's and blocky, chiseled features. Hellbat Schilt, refined and handsome, of medium build. Glacier Le Cactank, as wide as he was tall, with an impressively pointed mustache. Cubit Foxtar, a beautiful woman, her figure alluring and her golden curls immaculate. Volteel Biblio, stooped, scrawny and blind, his helmet covering his eyes.

"All hail the immortal," the eight of them said in unison, forming a line before the tank and bowing. "All hail the invincible. All hail he who is neither man nor machine, but who has transcended both. All hail he who, alone, is the only truly permanence in this world. Hail God."

"Rise, my Disciples," the old man instructed them, and they did so. "We are here today to witness the rebirth of the Son of God. One who, through ill fortune and poor choices, strayed from his path, and will now return to it. He will be reborn, as God's greatest servant, equal only to his twin, the Daughter of God."

**Why does he always call me that? **The Virus muttered inside Sigma's head as the old man droned on, the Disciples listening eagerly. **His daughter. It's stupid. **

_Because you are, _Sigma thought back, no more interested in the dogma than she was, and as soon as he had, he suddenly realized that it was true. He'd never actually thought about it before, never even considered the question at all, but now that he did, he _knew_.With a certainty born of decades of association that went deeper than any other sentient mind would ever be able to comprehend, rather than any actual logic, he knew it was true. _You are his daughter. _

**I am his **_**child,**_ the Virus corrected him. **I am not like you, Sigma. I have no body, no form, and my mind is unlike any other, like I told you before. Why would I have any need for a gender at all? **

_Because gender goes beyond merely the physical, _Sigma replied. _Without getting into cliches that would only irritate both of us, men and women think differently, whether they are human or reploid. And _you _think like a woman. _

**I should make you scream for that, **she snarled; already, he was unconsciously thinking of her as female, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to actually connect the dots with what the old man had referred to her as. **The only reason I don't is because it would disrupt the proceedings. In fact, I think I will, as soon as we're done here and on our way. **

_I look forward to it. _Sigma's lips twitched, smiling oh-so-slightly. _My lady. _

**You'll regret that, **she said, calmly, coldly.

_No, I don't think I will. _Sigma shook his head as the old man finished his impromptu sermon.

"**Now, father?**" The Virus asked, using his voice again as soon as the chamber had gone quiet. "**Do you want me to awaken him now?**"

"The time for his awakening has come, my dear," the old man agreed, as Biblio pressed a few buttons on the side of the medical table. The reploid atop it twitched as the hardware began his activation, providing the initial surge of energy needed to revive him from the death he had suffered thirty years past. "But there is no need for you to trouble yourself. Simply watch, and rejoice. Your brother has returned to you, better than ever before."

"**What?**" The Virus said, stunned, as the reploid on the table slowly turned his head one way, then another, taking in everything he saw without a word.

_Well, well, well, _Sigma thought. _Isn't _this _an interesting development. _

"Rise, Omega, Son of God," the old man ordered the awakened reploid. "Rise, so that you may serve God, as is your destiny. These are God's disciples, and God's Heir. Do not harm them, unless it is absolutely necessary."

"**He is not mine!**" The Virus protested, with both Sigma's voice as well as her own, meeting her father's eyes with his in an accusatory glare. "**I cannot feel his soul! You **_**reset **_**me, father? You created another incarnation of me within him? **_**Why?**_"

"Rewards must be earned, dear," the old man told her, wagging a finger, as Omega stared at Sigma, as if he could see her as well. "When we have succeeded in our design, then I will tell you how you will be able to merge with another version of yourself, and he will be yours once more. Until then, this will suffice for what I require of him. After all, it is best to keep our respective chains of command separate, don't you think? You will have your Maverick officers, as I have my Faithful, Omega first among them."

_We really should have seen something like this coming, _Sigma thought ruefully as Omega climbed off of the table. _For all his words of fatherly love, he trusts us as much as we do him. _The massive reploid stood before the old man's tank for a long moment, and then he dropped to one knee, still silent.

"Is it time, then, milord?" Mantisk asked, his shrill voice savage and eager. "Time for us to begin your Ascension?"

"Almost, Deathtanz," the old man replied, looking to Sigma once more. "Our partners have one last task they still need to see through, or so they tell me. Shall we get started sometime tomorrow, then?"

"That will be fine." Sigma nodded. "As soon as we return to our own demesnes, we will begin preparing them for deployment."

"My Disciples will do the same with my Faithful, then," the old man agreed, as did the Disciples. "Let it be... three forty-eight PM, Tokyo time."

"An auspicious time, my God," Kelverian rumbled. "An auspicious date."

"It is, isn't it?" The old man said, slowly, as if only now remembering something incredibly important. "Hee hee ha ha ha... I had almost forgotten. It will be tomorrow, won't it? Exactly one hundred years, since the day I died, before I was reborn anew. Yes, that will be the perfect time to start the fun. Let it be so."

"It is suitable enough," Sigma agreed; he didn't particularly care, but nor did he have any reason to object. "Will you be attending in person, sir?" The honorific came automatically, without requiring much thought, and he meant it in earnest despite his unemotional tone, just as he had every time he'd used it over the years. It had been a long, long time since he had addressed _anybody _as "sir," but even at his most insane, he had always viewed the old man in the sea as perhaps the only truly kindred spirit he had in the world. The only one who had defied death as much as he had, more than any reploid.

"Of course," the old man said, as the tank began to drain, for the first time ever to Sigma's knowledge. "After all, I must greet my old friend's youngest son, must I not?" The cables attached to his back snapped free as the water lowered below them, pulling themselves out so quickly that their ends touched not a drop of water, and retracted themselves back into the ceiling of the tank far above, leaving him standing at the bottom. Dripping wet, he waited as the last of the water emptied, after which the front of the tank lowered itself into the base.

"**Father, **_**please,**_" the Maverick Virus protested with Sigma's voice, averting his eyes for him as the old man stepped over the base of the tank, completely naked. As he did, Omega rose to his feet once more, and then into the air, floating back out of his way. Sigma's snort of amusement was stifled, and a moment later, she spoke again inside his mind. **I heard that. That's another one you'll pay for. **

"Yes, yes, of course." The old man snapped his fingers. "Clothe me." Foxtar and Schilt stepped forward, bearing a uniform much like their own, one that was all in black and gold rather than white. He spread his arms, and they began to garb him, without him so much as sparing a glance in their direction.

"We will be on our way, then." Sigma turned away, choosing not to respond to the Virus' threat, though he knew it to be valid; the elevator ride back up was likely to be highly unpleasant. "The sooner we pick up our last recruit, the better. We'll be in touch." None of the others replied as he left the room; he remembered the way back without need for a guide. Once they were alone, he spoke again. "It seems I'll need to think of a name for you."

_**Now **_**what are you rambling about? **The Virus snarled.

"Our bet, remember?" He reminded her. "If we ever met somebody who was like you, then I won. And even you can't argue that another, separate version _of _yourself qualifies. Don't worry; I'll give it a lot of thought, and make sure your name is fitting."

Her angry silence was more satisfying than any words could have been.

**April 23, 2185, 6:00 PM **

**Mecha **

He knew their faces, of course. He'd seen them all before, in history books and on television. The faces of his family, and another, who had been their greatest enemies and yet at other times their closest allies. Still, even watching three-dimensional projections of old news clips was entirely different from seeing them here, seeing the state-of-the art holoprojections of them side by side, in what had once been one of the Tokyo Robot Museum's most popular exhibits; from what he'd heard, it had been second only to the Hall of the Robot Masters.

The Creator, Doctor Thomas Xavier Light, his father, and the father of all Robot Masters and reploids according to some. He stood with his arms at his sides, beaming proudly at the rest of the exhibit without an ounce of negativity visible on his face, despite all the horrors he had seen and endured throughout his life. The Hero, Rock Light, the first Mega Man, his second brother. Despite his much younger age, his face carried much more cynicism and sorrow than his father's, but despite his tired blue eyes, his own-albeit much smaller-smile still seemed genuine.

The Watcher, Blues Light, Proto Man, his eldest brother. _His _smile had a sardonic twist to it, but it looked as if it were meant in good spirit, though of course his eyes were unseen behind his massive sunglasses. The Healer, Roll Light, his sister. Though she'd remained physically identical to a young teenager all her life, it was easy to see why human boys her own age would make what X could tell from the fire in her eyes would be a severe mistake, but her smile was warm nonetheless.

The Smith, Auto Light, youngest of his big brothers. Perhaps it was the fact that he alone of them was clearly inhuman, his green and gray body looking like something out of _The Jetsons, _but his wide grin was like his father's, showing nothing of the turmoil their lives had been. The Reaper, Doc Man Wily, eldest of the madman's sons, and most mysterious of all. His design was in his original body, before he'd been remodeled and revived for the Fifth Robot Rebellion; though X knew little of his role and personality, something about his eternal, skull-faced grin was unsettling even to him.

The Renegade, Bass Wily, second to be created. His face was much more normal, and like the Lights with their father, it bore somewhat of a resemblance to that of the man who'd built him, harsh and intense with a decidedly threatening smile. The Guardian, King Wily, looked just like he had when X had met him, and so he hadn't paid much attention to the devil's third son. There were others that commanded his attention more, three in particular which actively disturbed him, for different reasons in each case.

The Fallen, Doctor Albert William Wily, was one of them. Unlike the others, his image had been designed to resemble how he'd appeared long _before _the Robot Rebellions, when his already-thinning hair had still been black; despite his cynical gaze, his smile was sad, almost wistful. Another was the Warrior, Zero Omega, youngest son of Wily. Just looking at him brought back painful memories, and X hadn't been able to do so for long; his cocky smirk was exactly the way he remembered it. Even that paled to the discomfort he felt at the last exhibit, his own. Specifically, the title they had placed there.

The Savior.

"Mega Man X?" Countess' voice broke his concentration, but he didn't turn to look at her just yet, as she walked in behind him.

"Just X, please," he told her quietly. Once she was standing next to him, he continued. "There seems to be one missing. Wily's fourth. I suppose you could say it and Zero were twins, from a certain point of view."

"Yes," she agreed tightly. "The Abomination. She alone of the two families is not given a place here, for obvious reasons."

"She?" X frowned. "Since when did it have a gender?"

"To be honest, I'm not really sure who first started referring to it as female, myself," Countess admitted, shaking her head. "Once we did, though, for some reason it seemed right, so we continued doing so."

"It makes a sort of twisted sense," X replied quietly. "Of Dr. Light's children, one of five was a daughter, too. The parallels are a little out of order, including King and Auto, unlike the other three pairs, but otherwise..." He trailed off, and after a moment, when he spoke again, he changed the subject. "Is King awake yet?"

"Yes." Countess nodded, as cool as ever. "That's what I came here to inform you of. He expected that you would want to see him as soon as he was."

"At this rate, I really am going to start thinking he can see the future," X commented as he turned away, but the joke sounded flat even to his own ears. "Coming?"

"You know the way," she said, eyes on Roll's display. "I'll remain here. It's been some time."

Despite his instincts to respond to that, X managed to stifle what he'd been about to say, and simply nodded before leaving. He wandered through the halls of the Kingdome, so like those of the MHHQ and yet so different, for who knew how long, before coming to the entrance of the Dark Hall. He wasn't even surprised when the doors parted for him automatically, and he walked into the nearly pitch-black chamber. King was alone there, still seated upon his throne as always, and the only source of light shone down on him from above.

"Mega Man X," the ruler of Mecha greeted him calmly.

"King," X replied, in the same tone of voice. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as ever." King almost seemed to smile. "This chair is not exactly designed for comfort."

"Why don't you leave it, then?" X frowned. "Why stay there, for all these years? Ever since Dr. Corbun died, right?"

"Since then." King slowly nodded. "And my only answer to that is because it was the best way to minimize my own role in this city's growth. Though I am ruler in name, it is the eight who stand below me who the citizens truly respect and love. In that matter, at least, it seems my plans have succeeded entirely."

"You make it sound like you didn't want them to get too attached to you," X noted. The seat at the foot of the table was still there, and after a moment's deliberation he took it, leaning forward and folding his arms on its surface.

"Indeed I did not," King said quietly. "Perhaps someday, you will understand why. And you, X? You have learned much in a very short period of time, have you not?"

"Yeah," X admitted. "And I can connect a few dots, even when I wasn't told how. I met with those guys you've been hiding in the broom closet. The Scion's Zenith. At first, I didn't know if I could still trust them or not, but after I thought it over..." He met King's eyes. "This MI9 of theirs. It really was that bad, wasn't it?"

"In my own eyes, it was as great a threat as all of Sigma's mad machinations, and those of the abomination growing within his mind," King replied, voice hard and firm. "Three heads had the dragon, each as deadly as the others, and MI9 was one of the three. The only one which has already been slain, thankfully. In truth, it was not so much foresight that led me to offer those heroes a place amongst us so much as gratitude. By their actions, they saved us all."

"MI9's leader," X continued. "The man who founded them, after the Robot Rebellions ended. They never told me his name, but I think I know who he was. It was Darwin Vinkus, wasn't it?"

"One of your father's closest friends and contemporaries, who throughout his life was constantly at the heart of the age of the Robot Masters, despite having no ability in their construction whatsoever." King slowly nodded. "Yes, it was he. Does that fact disturb you?"

"I don't know what it does any more," X said quietly, closing his eyes. "The more time I spend down here, the more I think that I don't know _anything _any more. Or maybe like I never did in the first place. I came to terms with the realities of life, after Zero died. I finally figured out what it was I'd always wondered about, ever since I became a Hunter. That the trick was to admit that there was no happy ending, and there never would be. That this was my life, and it would always _be _my life."

"A harsh outlook, but an understandable one, considering the circumstances," King told him gravely. "And yet, it is changing once more, now, is it not?"

"Maybe," X admitted, frustrated, as he opened his eyes again, staring at the table now. "I don't know. I really don't. Everything that I thought was true is being cast into question. It's like everything me and the Hunters have done, everything we've fought and died and lived for, was just part of some greater story from the very beginning, and always was. Like we're so much smaller, so much less important, than I ever thought. Me, Zero, Alia, Signas, Douglas, Lifesaver, Simon, Arvis, Cain... even Sigma."

"Did you think it was your story?" King asked, not unkindly. "That the Maverick Uprisings were nothing more and nothing less than the story of Mega Man X, of your life?"

"Of course not!" X snapped, temper flaring for a moment before subsiding as he glared at King. He sighed then, irritated both at the Robot Master for asking the question and at himself for how he'd replied. "Well, maybe. Kind of. Not for long, but every now and then, I guess. Doesn't everybody feel that way sometimes, though?"

"They do." King slowly nodded. "But one of the many duties required of us both, and of all our family, is to gain the ability to look beyond that. No, Mega Man X, this is not your story. Nor is it my story. It is not the story of my brother, Zero Omega, or my sister, the Maverick Virus. It is not the story of her consort, Sigma, nor is it the story of Doctor James Cain, and the new race which he created. Just as it was never the story of Doctor Thomas Light, the greatest man this world has ever known, or Doctor Albert Wily, once just as blessed before becoming a plague upon the earth of equal measure."

"This story was never that of Rock Light, of Mega Man, despite his heroic deeds. It was not the story of his sister Roll, or of the other two Light Brothers who fought the Rebellions together, Blues and Auto. It was not the story of my other brothers either, Bass and Doc Man. It was never any of their story, any more than it was the story of Mr. X, of Darwin Vinkus, of Trenton Corbun, of Sergei Cossack or his daughter Kalinka. Even the story of the Scion's Zenith, of their secret war, was not truly their own, but simply part of another. A story greater than any of us."

"This tale which we live in, which we continue to write with every moment we breathe, this Legacy of Metal which we have built together, one and all... it is the story of our world, the world which we live upon. It is the story of the Third World War, and of the Robot Rebellions, and of the Maverick Uprisings, and of what will come beyond even those. It is the story of the past and of the future, of this planet and of every last human who once lived upon it. And all of us are nothing more than components of the greater whole, our parts all too small..." He bowed his head, eyes closing for only a moment. "And our lives all too short."

"I've seen a lot of friends die, over the years," X replied quietly after a moment. "You have, too, haven't you?"

"All too many." King slowly nodded. "And yet, the ones that haunt me the most are the ones who I did not see die at all. Who I only learned of long after the fact, when it was too late for me to do anything. When I returned to the house of Light, expecting to forge a greater friendship than before with those who lived there, only to be met by Auto and told that I was too late. When the Maverick Virus took control of Zero Omega, and slaughtered both your family and mine... I, alone, was not there to fight by their side."

"It wasn't your fault," X told him, his own thoughts and emotions regarding the event in question conflicting. "There was no way you could have known. And even if you had been there, from what I hear, you would have just died with the rest of them."

"I am aware," King agreed, his face as impassive as usual. "And yet, facts are somewhat cold comfort, when standing amidst gravestones. If there is anything which you do, Mega Man X, son of Light, do not repeat my mistake. Whatever it is that happens in the coming years to all of us, never leave your friends' side. Stand with them always, so that even if they fall, you will be there with them when they-hrk!"

"What's wrong?" X yelled, jumping to his feet, as King's words cut off in a sudden grunt of pain.

"Nothing," King gritted out between clenched teeth, gripping one arm with his other hand. "It is nothing. Simply another burden which I must endure." In less than a minute, he'd regained control of himself... but not before X had seen the purple contamination flood over the arm and part of his chest, starting to creep up his neck as well, before retreating and disappearing once more.

"You're infected," he whispered out loud even as he realized it himself.

"I am, but not as you think," King said, breathing heavily now. "I was created in the last days of the age of Robot Masters, when my father was creating the Maverick Virus, and he chose me to test an incomplete prototype of his foulest creation. The Virus which dwells within me has no consciousness, no sentience, and it is incapable of spreading to others of its own volition, though samples can be taken and administered."

"That's how you tested Countess' Silver Bullet." X snapped his fingers. "Willing test subjects, who allowed themselves to be infected by your version."

"They are all clean now," King assured him. "My version is also easier to purify. It is possible to create a cure, unlike with the final product."

"Then why didn't they cure you, too?" X pressed him, sitting back down.

"Because this, as well, is my burden to bear for my sins against humanity," King explained quietly. "My penance, for the deaths that I caused, before I learned why not to. And because, as much as I loathe to admit it... there are certain advantages, in combat, which I may need some day, reluctant as I am to ever allow it that much control of me."

"Is that why you stay down here all the time?" X asked, voice calm but intent, staring into King's eyes. "Because of the possibility you might go berserk?"

"That is one of the reasons, yes," King admitted. "But there are others, as well. Ones which you may not wish to hear of."

"I'll take the risk," X decided.

"In truth, it is not the stability of my body which worries me," King explained quietly. "No, what I no longer find myself unable to trust is my mind. Ever since that day, more than a hundred years ago, when your brother finally defeated me. I was in full Berserker state at that point, as well as being fused with a gigantic mechaniloid, the sort which would eventually become known as a 'battle body,' a term coined by the reploid who used them more than any other."

"Sigma," X said flatly. "I know what you refer to, but I wasn't aware they were ever used in the Robot Rebellions."

"To my knowledge, mine was the only one," King told him. "When its systems ceased functioning, while I was still connected... the effect drove the Virus within me into remission instantly, and my mind regained control. In that instant... I believe I felt what it was like to die, and yet, I lived. Ever since then... nothing has been the same. I have been more unstable. My thoughts, my perceptions, my beliefs... none of them are reliable. Here in this dark hall, when I am alone, I often see things that nobody else can see, and hear things that only I can hear."

"And yet you founded this city," X reminded him, despite the chill that ran down his spine at King's blunt admission of his own insanity. "You built it, with Doctor Corbun, and you kept it a secret until recently. You succeeded in everything you wanted. And..." He struggled with what he wanted to say for a moment before continuing. "You were preparing, too, weren't you? For what's going to happen, soon. Was that only because of... of what you saw and heard?"

"No." King shook his head. "I have always been conscious of that, and have sought additional corroboration to support my beliefs. If there was no evidence to be found, then I spoke nothing of them, even to those closest to me... save for Prince, whose paramount duty requires that he know. Only when we found evidence, however slight, proving that my suspicions were not simply paranoia with no root in reality, did we act."

"Then you really do think that..." X trailed off, unable to finish.

"I do." King nodded. "But I do not demand belief from you, as well, without evidence. All I ask of you is that you be prepared, for what may come. That if it does, that the Hunters will be ready to meet it."

"That much, I can promise," X said firmly. "I won't even have to drop any names. Just the thought that Sigma might have found a partner, just as strong and as dangerous as the Mavericks, will be enough to put the Hunters on full alert. We'll be ready to go as soon as something breaks out, if it does."

"As will I, and Mecha," King promised in return. "On that day, X... that is the day when I will rise from this throne, and return to the outside world to fight once more. For your sake, and for the sake of all reploids like you, I will take up my ax and shield again."

"I'm not a reploid," X snapped, automatically, as he had his entire life. King's response was stranger than most, however; rather than saying something in return, he tilted his head and watched him calmly for a long moment before speaking.

"Why do you respond so angrily to that?"

"Because I'm not," X replied flatly. "I am the prototype of the reploids. Me and Zero."

"I see," King murmured. "Do you believe that that makes you superior to the reploids, then? Are you better than them?"

"What?" X blinked, caught off guard; that was something nobody had asked before. "No, of course not. Nobody's better than anybody else because of what they are. Only who."

"And yet, you insist on being held separate from them," King mused, and now it was his eyes that were intense as he held X's gaze. "Different. You insist upon it, despite your humility. On making sure that nobody forgets that you are _not _one of them."

"I can see where you're going with this, and I'll say this once," X replied flatly, eyes narrowing. "It's not like that, and it never was. Besides, you're one to talk. You're an 'Advanced' Robot Master, right? You and the other children of Light and Wily. The kind with the glitch that makes sentience a guarantee, rather than a distant possibility through extensive emotional development. Do you consider_ your_self superior to the other citizens?"

"Of course I do," King told him, and before X could recover from his surprise at the blatant boast, he continued. "In terms of pure, hard science, I _am _superior. My body is stronger and better designed by far than any other, for I was meant to be a son of Wily, rather than simply a creation of his. By that same token, my mind _was _clearly built to be more advanced, as you say. In terms of what I am, rather than who, I _am _superior, Mega Man X. Just as you are to reploids, beings inspired by your blueprints, built by those who could only partially understand the genius of the one who created you."

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised by this, considering your name." X shook his head slowly. "All the same, has anybody ever told you you've got one hell of an ego?"

"Many times," King said, still staring at him. "But you seem to be missing my point. If you and I are, in fact, greater than the rest of our kind, then that is not a matter of glory or pride. It is one of responsibility and duty. A true leader, one who deserves to lead, _must _be the greatest of those who follow him. How else is he to protect them, to guide them, to destroy those who would harm them and to help them achieve their full potential? You are a warrior paramount, Mega Man X... but as a leader, you still have much to learn."

"All I've ever led is the 17th Unit," X reminded him quietly, mind racing with confusion again. "And it's all I ever plan to." After a moment more, he stood. "I should be getting back to the MHHQ."

"Then go," King said, as impassive as ever. "Go, and prepare... and think upon what we have talked of, this day. Remember it, and consider what I have said, and remember also what becomes of the best laid plans of mice and men... and of robots, as well."

X said nothing more as he walked away, and left him alone in the dark once more.

**April 23, 2185, 8:00 PM **

**St. Petersburg, Russia **

"What a wonderful night out," Dynamo remarked to himself, casually stargazing as he walked down the dilapidated streets of one of the worse parts of town. He was a humanoid reploid, tall and skinny with black armor, unremarkable save for the unusual shape of his helmet; it covered only the top and sides of his head, allowing his long silver hair to spill down his back. His favorite shades, an ironic pink, were attached to it, tinting the top half of his face.

"Not a cloud in the sky, no siree, just stars and darkness." Grinning cheerfully, without an ounce of guile, he continued into an alley, rambling to himself. "And would you _look _at that moon! Half and half, right down the center! Beautiful!" It was a weakness of his, how much he enjoyed talking, even when there was nobody to talk _to _but himself. There were several unpleasant customers in the alley, and as he walked down they gave him glances containing various degrees of hostility, but upon looking him over, they averted their eyes and made no moves towards him.

The door he wanted was the second on the right, the back entrance to a run-down tavern, one that had been closed for over a year now by the looks of it, but that nobody had bothered doing anything about. It was locked, of course, but Dynamo had a copy of the keycard, and let himself in without bothering to knock.

"Hey, you-!" The burly thug who'd been dozing on a chair just inside jerked to his feet as Dynamo walked in.

"Relax, big guy," he told him, tossing him the keycard. "You'll ruin your blood pressure if you get worked up over every little thing. The boss is expecting me, isn't he? So here I am. How else am I going to get paid?" Without waiting for a response, he hopped onto the rail of the stairs leading into the basement and skidded all the way down, landing perfectly on his feet at the bottom before proceeding through the door. "Mister Grigori? Are you here?"

"What the-" The old man inside yelped, staring at him; aged but still strong, with iron gray hair and mustache. He was currently bent over a billiard table, taking careful aim, and Dynamo's entrance made him botch his shot, sending the cue ball bouncing around without hitting anything but the sides. His bodyguards were similarly surprised, bur reacted more quickly, all four of them pulling their busters and magpistols out immediately and training them on Dynamo's head.

"Easy." Dynamo slowly raised his hands, still smirking insolently. "What's with the cold reception, huh? I thought we were all friends here. I even went and did the job for you, just like you asked. Is this any way to say thank you?"

"A valid point," Grigori replied calmly, regaining his composure. Standing up, he discarded the cuestick and reached into the pocket of his suit for a cigarette, lighting up.

"Oh, hey, good idea!" Dynamo said, looking at the pack. "Mind if I grab one? I'm all out."

"Listen, you little-" one of the goons started to growl.

"Of course, of course," Grigori cut him off, smiling. Producing another cig, he tossed it to Dynamo, who caught it with one hand without moving so much as another muscle. "Nice catch. One of you provide a light for our friend, will you?"

"Nice throw," Dynamo replied, lowering both his hands now as another one of the goons produced a lighter and did as his boss had told him.

"I must applaud your work ethic," Grigori continued, exhaling. "You got them all. The old man, all four of his sons, his wife, and not only his daughter, but her husband and their children, too. Not to mention his brother, _his _wife, _their _son, and even his sister. All _very _dead, there's not even the slightest doubt about that. And I do believe you managed to eliminate the entire roster on guard duty, too. Very well done."

"I'm a professional, Mister Grigori," Dynamo told him, resisting the urge to shrug humbly; the guards all still had their guns trained on him. "I prefer to be thorough, at all times. Taking chances is for _amateurs_, you know?"

"Indeed." Grigori nodded, still smiling, but his eyes were cold. "And you do have quite a reputation as a professional, which is why I contracted your services on this occasion. You came highly recommended, and my expectations were met. And yet..." He tapped some ash off of his cigarette. "I do seem to recall instructing you to make it look like an accident, did I not?"

"Oh, yeah, you did," Dynamo snapped his fingers. "Damn, I knew I was forgetting something. No, wait, I was gonna burn the place down afterwards, make it look like arson... oh, damn it all!" He bounced a hand off his forehead, silently noting that while the guards were still keeping their weapons on him, they weren't tensing up at every movement he made like they had when he'd first caught the cigarette. "I forgot to start the fire! Spread all the gas around, but I never actually lit the damn thing! Wow, this is really embarrassing."

"Not half as embarrassing as it was for me, I assure you, Mister Dynamo," Grigori growled, his smile absent now. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to pay you in a different form of currency than we agreed upon."

"Oh, man." Dynamo sighed, hands hanging at his sides. "What a bummer. I hate when this sort of thing happens, you know? It always brings the whole evening down." Just as casually as he was speaking, he activated one of his armor's functions, opening up a tiny port at the wrist and releasing a single, small object. Approximately the size and shape of a peachpit, it dropped out and fell to the floor, even as the guards saw it fall, saw it hit the floor an instant before they would open fire.

It was one of Dynamo's signature weapons, one that he'd built himself, just like all of them. A tiny, but powerful plasma explosive, one that-upon contact with sufficient force-would detonate, releasing enough stored energy to blow a car to charred wreckage. The humans among the thugs were killed instantly, and the reploids were almost as bad, blown away to lie in the corners, scorched and groaning. Only Dynamo himself was unharmed; he'd customized even their blast radiuses, and that one-from his left hand-was designed to explode outward, leaving the center of the explosion untouched.

"Do you know what's annoying about living a life of crime?" Dynamo continued to talk as Grigori's cigarette fell from his mouth, jaw hanging slackly and eyes wide with sudden fear. "For all the talk about being professionals, half the time the people you meet are anything _but_. What's worse is, they never seem capable of realizing when that's a _really bad idea. _You'd think evolution would weed out all the ones who were stupid enough to double-cross somebody like me, but I've been in the business for half a century now, and here we are."

"You..." Grigori stammered, before his hand darted into his suit.

"Honestly, it makes me think about retiring." Dynamo raised his right arm, shifted his buster, and fired. His was specially modified; while it was incapable of charging past a level-two "medium" shot, it could fire that level off by default, rather than _needing _to charge for a few seconds first. One was all that was needed to destroy the magpistol Grigori had been pulling, along with most of the hand as well, sending the old man to his knees, clutching the mangled limb and screaming. "Whatever happened to honor among thieves? I'm serious, it was an accident. I didn't do it on _purpose._"

"You..." Grigori managed to choke off his screams as Dynamo slowly walked towards him. "Wait! The money... I have it!"

"Really?" Dynamo grinned down at him. "Maybe I was too hard on you, then! Guess you're not such an idiot after all. My apologies! It was twenty million, right?"

"Yes, yes!" Grigori started to dig in a pocket with his maimed hand, stopped with a choked-off grunt of pain, and used his other hand instead. Pulling out a card, he held it out to Dynamo, trembling. "Here, the money's on here. All of it, I swear!"

"See, now if you'd just done that from the start, you wouldn't have this mess to clean up, now would you?" Dynamo told him, wagging a finger reprovingly before taking the card. "We're supposed to be professionals for a _reason_, you know? It makes things easier, for all of us." Pulling a reader out from his chest compartment, he looked it over, then nodded approvingly. "Oh, hey, this is even more than we agreed! You tacked another zero on here!"

"Call it a tip," Grigori told him, trying to smile and failing through gritted teeth. "An apology, for the trouble."

"Well now, that's mighty generous of you." Dynamo tucked both card and reader away before drawing the last of his weapons. A steel canister hanging at his belt, with emitters at both ends. Stroking the trigger, he watched Grigori turn white as both blades of his double-sided beam saber appeared, a blood red that cast the entire dimly-lit basement into that color. "I'll have to come up with some way to thank you."

"No, please..." Grigori begged, backing up against the wall without rising from the floor. "Please, don't... don't kill me..."

"Now you're just being a poor sport," Dynamo reprimanded him, advancing. "Why'd you get involved in this kind of business in the first place, if you weren't willing to risk everything? That's the thing about playing for high stakes, you know. You have to match the ante, just like everybody else. If you're not willing to lose your own life, then you shouldn't go around taking anybody else's, either, right? You place your bets, and then it's up to the hand you're dealt. And the thing about this line of work is... sooner or later, the house always wins, yeah?"

He stood in front of Grigori, and his eyes never left the old man's as he bent down before him. Slowly, carefully, he brought one end of the beam saber up to his employer's face, and began burning away his mustache with absolute precision. The smell of burning hair filled the room, but his skin was completely untouched. Only when the entire mustache was gone, perfectly removed, did Dynamo deactivate the beam saber and turn away.

"On second thought, forget it," he called over his shoulder as Grigori stared after him, still trembling. "I changed my mind. This whole scene's such a bummer already, there's just no saving it, you know? Why even bother? The night's a loss. A shame, too. It really was gorgeous out." He paused in midstep then, frowning thoughtfully. "Wait a second, here. There's something else I was forgetting, too. Not from the job, from tonight." He snapped his fingers repeatedly. "Come on, come on, what was it..."

"There was a guard at the door," a deep, bass voice rumbled as the basement door swung open, though nobody walked in just yet. "If he'd still been alive, he would have heard the noise, and come down to see what was going on. Two more upstairs, as well, both armed, covering the other entrance. Not to mention four on the second floor; those ones were off duty, but if one of the others had yelled, they'd have grabbed their weapons and come down."

"What?" Grigori demanded from behind Dynamo. "Nobody said anything about you having a partner."

"Thaaaaaaaaaat would be because I don't," Dynamo murmured, pale and shaken himself now. It had been thirty years, but he still knew _that _voice. It wasn't the kind of voice you forgot easily, or at all. "Aw, _man. _Of all the luck. And I thought my night was in the pits already. Shows what I know, huh?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Sigma said, finally walking in. Despite his new body, different from the one Dynamo had known, it was impossible to mistake him for anybody else. "There's a reason I went to all this effort to track you down. You're an extremely talented individual, Dynamo. Out of all of my lieutenants, over all the years, through one Uprising after another, you're the only one who ever managed to walk away clean."

"What can I say?" Dynamo shrugged, keeping up the banter even though he knew he was completely screwed. "I value my independence. Don't get me wrong, I never minded working for you, Sigma. Your money was as good as anybody else's, and the jobs you had me do were a _blast. _Most fun I'd had since I took out President Hastings. We had some good times, didn't we? But the thing is, I don't really do the whole 'team spirit' thing. I work better alone, you know? That's why I'm a contractor, instead of joining up with anybody."

"You..." Grigori whispered in horror, staring at the intruder. "You're... you're _Sigma! _What are you doing here?"

"Silence," Sigma told him gravely, without even looking towards him. "You are unimportant." He smiled then, and it was even more frightening than his scowl had been. "Come now, Dynamo. I'm not as unreasonable as _that_. I agreed when I first requested your services that one of the conditions of our arrangement was that nobody would try to infect you, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, duh," Dynamo retorted, still smiling nervously. The basement had only one exit, and Sigma was standing in it; it probably wasn't even worth trying to teleport out. If there wasn't an electromagnetic barrier up, he was a duck. Specifically, a wood duck. And not even a reploid one, either. An actual, biological wood duck. "I never would have taken the job otherwise, no matter how much you paid me. Not because of _morals _or anything stupid like that, but I kind of like my brain the way it is. Never been too keen on messing with the formula."

"An entirely understandable sentiment," Sigma conceded. "And at the time, it amused me, to have the most highly paid member on my staff below myself be the only one who _wasn't _truly one of us. Between that, and your effectiveness, I was perfectly willing to let you set your own terms, so long as you got the job done. Which you did, of course. I was honestly shocked when you simply left, without even waiting around for the last installment of your pay."

"I kind of get these feelings sometimes," Dynamo explained, sweating. "Instincts, you know? If you want to survive in this field, you gotta have some _real _sharp instincts. And the funny thing is, towards the end there, mine were screaming at me to get out of town yesterday, and don't bother packing first. It was nothing personal, but I've learned to listen to my nerves when they're twitching that much. You don't do that, you don't live long at all, you know?"

"Also understandable." Sigma nodded charitably. "It may have been for the best at the time. I had no intention of infecting you, as I said, but that required consciously resisting that particular impulse, and who knows how long I would have been able to? She's really very persistent. You wouldn't know, since you've never felt her embrace, but I assure you, ignoring her isn't an option. Ask anybody."

"I'll be sure to, next time I see another Infected," Dynamo promised, still motionless. "Is that what this is about, then? You want to hire me again, for another round? Because hey, if that's all you want, you didn't need all the dramatics. Can't be _that _hard to dig up my phone number, and you know my rates are reasonable."

"Indeed they are." Sigma agreed. "Very reasonable. In fact, I'll have you know I recommended you to all my dupes for quite some time after that. I got my money's worth out of you, and that was why I was content to allow you to go your separate way. At the time, I honestly thought that our business was concluded."

"Changed your mind, then, I take it?" Dynamo asked rhetorically.

"I'm afraid so," Sigma said, as his grin slowly widened. "There was a minor setback in my preparations for the next... event. The one who I had planned on appointing as my second-in-command proved unfit, so to speak, and I was forced to dismiss him from my service, leaving me without anybody to fill that office. That was when I thought of you. From what I recall of your career history, you've done military work as well as private, haven't you? Over in Somalia, as I recall, and the Congo as well."

"Once or twice, yeah," Dynamo admitted cautiously. "When it paid well enough, and the market was lean on anything else worth my time. Can't say it was really my favorite kind of job, though, and it's been a while since the last time."

"You'll pick it up again in no time," Sigma assured him. "I have the fullest confidence in your abilities. Really, if I were you, I'd look at this as a stroke of fortune. The world is about to change dramatically, Dynamo, and when it does, there'll be no going back for any of us. This way, at least you'll be on the winning side. It's certainly preferable to being just another civilian, or at least it will be soon. Not to mention, as my number two, any material pleasures your heart desires will be yours, without even needing to ask. Not bad, as job offers go, if I do say so myself."

"Pretty generous of you, all right," Dynamo said, still watching Sigma carefully, still smiling nervously. "So, what's the catch?"

"The catch, as you put it, is that I'm afraid our earlier agreement no longer applies," Sigma explained. "As I said, the game is changing, and we change with it. Infection is no longer optional, despite personal preference."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that." Dynamo sighed. "That's kind of a deal-breaker, right there." In the blink of an eye, his beam saber flared to life once more, and he dash-jumped straight towards Sigma's head, bringing it down from an overhead angle. Even as he did, he knew that it wouldn't work, that he wouldn't stand a chance, and yet he did it anyways. He wasn't even surprised when Sigma calmly snatched him out of the air, one massive hand gripping his upper torso, and squeezed him until he dropped the double saber, gasping in pain.

"Independent to the end," Sigma murmured, arm straight, holding Dynamo in the air. "Excellent. Remember that, Dynamo. Remember who and what you are, what makes you so effective. Remember that wild, blazing white madness of yours, brighter than the sun. And rather than forcing the Virus to muffle those attributes, allow it to _amplify _them instead. Do not fight the Virus. Ride it. _Seize _its power, the power it will grant you, and make it your own, rather than the other way around. Retain your sense of self, and the strength that comes with it, as I have."

And then the glowing purple infection, lines of code in a flood of disease without physical form, spilled down Sigma's arm and over his hand, and into Dynamo's helpless body.

**Destroy, **a voice whispered inside his head, soft at first, like a lover's kiss-and he'd had more than a few, over the years, both male and female, human and reploid-and then louder with every repetition. **Infect, **it told him gently but firmly, like a mother or a father patiently laying down the law, though of course he'd never had either. **Survive, **it commanded him, in a shout of authority, a military officer giving orders to his troops with everybody fully aware that the possibility of insubordination simply did not exist.

**Destroy, Infect, Survive, **the Maverick Virus screamed inside Dynamo's mind, every word a frenzied howl that shook the inside of his skull like an earthquake. He was trapped inside his own mind, a prisoner to the infection that was swallowing up his consciousness, incorporating him into its own, a screaming mass of millions of tortured souls trapped in the same mass of hideous shrieking bleeding writhing twitching agonized trembling helpless _hurting _insanity. **Destroy, infect, survive, destroy, infect, survive, destroy, infect, survive, destroy, infect, survive... **

"It takes some getting used to," Sigma advised him as he rolled on the floor, clutching his skull; somehow, he was able to make out the Maverick Emperor's words through his own frenzied screams. "The first few minutes are always the worst. Once you're no longer bothered by the prime directives, it becomes easier. They don't go away, mind you, but you'll soon get used to it, for the most part. The actual words themselves, that is. What goes along with them... well, that, you'll simply have to learn how to live with."

"Prime directives," Dynamo whispered, before laughing, a short bark of mirth despite the fact that he could _feel _his consciousness being rewritten, feel his memories and personality and emotions all being altered to suit the desires of the Virus. "Like Robot Masters. Like the three Laws. First law, destroy. Second law, infect. Third law, survive."

"There is a certain similarity, isn't there?" Sigma murmured, eyes speculative. "I doubt the coincidence. Regardless, the best way to get used to it at first is to indulge it. And while survival doesn't really take much effort half the time, and there's nobody worth infecting on the premises... I do believe at least four of these gentlemen are still alive. I'll wait for you outside." Turning, he walked away as Dynamo slowly rose back to his feet, arms and head dangling limply, like those of a ragdoll. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Grigori, who remained where he'd been, paralyzed by fear.

And then he smiled.

**April 24, 2185, 2:00 PM **

**Mecha **

"All systems at optimal capacity," Countess murmured to herself, unplugging the wire set into a jack in the side of her helmet. "Internal operations energy at one hundred percent. All Heart Tanks functional, all Sub Tanks at one hundred percent, all chemical weapons stores at one hundred percent." Sighing, she put away the scanning device she'd used on herself and closed the port before nodding firmly, gathering her will for what could no longer be denied. "I'm ready."

They'd all known that this day would come, for many decades now, and the fear of that future had played a large part in all of their development. Countess had dealt with it in what she considered to be the most practical way possible, by removing emotion from the equation to the best of her ability and looking at it in terms of pure, hard facts. Until now, that had worked; eventually, she'd stopped fearing it, and started seeing it as just one more unfortunate situation that would have to be resolved for the success of their civilization.

And yet now, when it was finally upon them, she realized all too late that the fear had never died. It had simply buried itself, deep within her consciousness, only to rise again at the worst possible time. Despite logic and reason, she was afraid. Afraid of war. Afraid of death. Afraid of energy shortage, and of the Maverick Virus. And most of all, she was afraid of their enemy, the enemy of all who lived.

To Countess' credit, she only stared at her own reflection in the metal wall for a moment before shaking her head and turning away, to continue her duties. Proceeding to a computer terminal, she opened up a channel to the MHHQ first.

"Hello, Countess," the tall, blue-haired Navigator-Countess thought her name was Lily-greeted her calmly. "Who would you like to speak to?"

"Duke, if he's available," Countess explained, and with a polite nod, the Navigator put her through.

"Countess," the second-eldest said once the connection went through. He was seated behind the desk the Hunters had given him, and was clad in his own brown and gray armor, including the helmet he usually left off unless actually working in the field, even when he wore the rest of it. Hands steepled before his face, eyes narrowed, he chose his words carefully, as conscious as she was of the probability that the line was being monitored. "Is it almost time, then?"

"Almost, according to his majesty," she agreed. "I take it X returned, yesterday?"

"He did," Duke confirmed. "I'm not sure how much he's told them, or how much he believes himself, just yet... but they're as ready as they can be, themselves. All thirty Units are ready to go at a moment's notice, and all leave's been canceled, including the staff. They've got a full roster on duty in every department. All the top brass are sticking to the War Room like their feet are glued to the floor. The only reason I'm not in there myself is because I was waiting for this call. I'll head in there now."

"Do so," she agreed. "We'll be waiting for you when you return." Cutting the line, she opened up more windows then, many more, fourteen in all for a conference call. One by one, they sprang to life, showing familiar faces. Six were reploids, those whom she'd called family all her life. The other eight were Robot Masters, one from each of the Districts save for District 1, which contained the Kingdome and its immediate surroundings. All of them were among Mecha's best and brightest, those who combined leadership, fighting ability and intellect.

"Good afternoon, Countess," Snake said politely in his Texan drawl; idly, she wondered when and why exactly he'd picked the accent up.

"And to you, Snake, and all of you," she replied, smiling ever-so-faintly for only a moment. "How go the preparations?"

"Everything's ready to go down here," Earl grunted; like all of them, he wore his own black and red armor now.

"Here, as well," Baron agreed, and the others all murmured similar agreements.

"Good," Prince took over from her. "Unfortunately, we won't know just how many places they're going to hit until they start the party. Be prepared for any conditions, in any environment. If we're lucky, there'll be eight or less. If so, then suggest to whatever Hunters you end up working together with that you divide the city in half. They have their ways of doing things, and we have ours. Best for everybody, I think, if we stay out of each others' way for now. We'll have plenty of chances to learn how to work together later; for the first conflict, it'll be more important to do the best we can without taking any risks."

"About that," Joker, a Clown Man who'd changed out his purple color scheme for a more vibrant shade of red, said calmly despite his childishly high-pitched voice. "As we discussed before, there are many of us who will be unable to aid in the conflict initially, due to our Second Law. We'll join you as soon as possible, but until then, we'd simply be too much of a risk."

"We're aware, Joker," Prince assured him. "Snake, you'll be with them as well, correct?"

"I will." Snake nodded. "I'll be the one making the call."

"I suppose there _is _a certain logic to that," Viscount murmured, smiling sharply.

"A certain irony, as well," Margravine added, in a similar tone, and Countess almost barked a reprimand before she realized how nervous they really were, just as much as any of them; their air of laid-back anticipation was a front to try and hide their real feelings, likely for the benefit of the citizenry.

"Is there anything else we need to be aware of?" Heavy, a gunmetal gray Gravity Man, asked.

"Only one thing more," Prince told them firmly. "Try not to die, guys. All of you. Otherwise, everything we've worked for for these hundred years, this society that was entrusted to us, will all be for nothing. We have to live. Not only for ourselves. But for Mecha." One by one, they cut the connections, until only the two of them remained. "Once you're ready, Countess, his majesty has requested your presence in the Dark Hall."

"Mine?" She blinked. "I thought you usually saw to him."

"We talked about it," he explained. "And we agreed it was time to bring you in on what we haven't, so far. We'll be telling you more, over the next few years, assuming we all survive. For now, though, see to his Majesty."

"Very well." She cut the connection, then turned in her chair as the door behind her opened. "Ah, there you are. I was about to come looking for you."

"Thought I'd spare you the trouble," Pharaoh Man, son of Cossack, replied as he walked in, his silver-and-goldenrod armor shining. "Everybody else is good to go, I take it?"

"They are." She nodded. "And yourselves?"

"More than." He met her eyes, and she shivered slightly; something in them was like King's, something she'd never been able to identify or describe, but that she'd seen in Mega Man X as well, and in her creator before his death. "Horn and Hazil aside, and _maybe_ Bristol... we're warriors. Killers. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but we made our choices long ago. We've been sitting on our asses long enough. If it's time to do what we have to, so other people won't, again, we'll be the first ones out there."

"Not all of you were," she recalled. "You and the other Cossack models... you only fought initially because Wily forced you to, didn't you? You were happy to spend decades after that before returning to the battlefield, and even when you did, it was only five of you, as I recall. Dust Man, Skull Man and Dive Man chose not to be upgraded, like the rest."

"Initially, yes," Pharaoh Man admitted. "They had their reasons, each of them."

"I'm aware," she said politely. "I simply wondered what changed their minds."

"Before, it was a matter of altruism," he explained. "We were volunteering, because we could help. We didn't actually think we were _necessary._ This time, though... if you guys are right, we're gonna need every last tiny little advantage we can get, if we're going to stand a chance."

"Is that the only reason?" She asked him.

"No." He shook his head slowly, and if his eyes had burned before, now they were blazing. "This time, it's _personal._ We have debts yet unpaid to the old man in the sea. Debts owed to our creator, to our sister... and to ourselves." He turned away, then, back the way he'd come. "We're ready, Countess. Just let us know when and where to go."

"As are we all," she murmured once he was gone. "Or so we hope. I wonder, in truth, if any of us could ever truly be ready for this." Shaking her head, she stood then and left the room, making her way to the Dark Hall.

"Countess," King greeted her upon her entrance, glancing her way. "Is all in readiness?"

"Yes, your majesty," she replied, approaching him. "Mecha will emerge into the world once more on your command."

"Then all that remains is my own preparation," he told her gravely, reaching over to the wrist of his right gauntlet and opening a port, similar to the one located on the side of a reploid's helmet. "There is a medial scanner on the table. Please check to ensure that all of my systems are functional."

"Yes, sir." Nodding, she picked up the device and plugged in the wire. Looking over the readout, she fought the color rising to her cheeks, forcing herself to observe the data only. "Everything seems to be in perfect condition."

"I suppose I am lucky that they have not atrophied from lack of movement, as a human's would," he commented with what almost sounded like humor. "Thank you, Countess."

"You're welcome, your majesty," she replied, bowing slightly. "Is there any other way in which I may be of service?"

"Indeed there is." He nodded. "Shortly, I will enter a meditative trance. During that time, I will be completely unaware of my surroundings. Until now, Prince has always stood guard over me during such times. Today, however, I would prefer that you do so."

"I will not fail you, your majesty," she promised him.

"I never once thought that you would," he assured her. "In addition, you will find my ax and shield in a hidden cabinet located in the back of my throne." Opening up a keypad in one armrest, he punched in a code. "Please inspect them to ensure that they are in perfect condition as well. They seem so, to my eye, but you are more analytical than I, and I prefer not to take chances."

"Of course." Walking around behind him, she took them from the cabinet, and when she carried them back around to set them down on the table, he was staring straight ahead with vacant eyes. She knew, without needing to ask, that he would see nothing and hear nothing until he rose from his trance, and so she busied herself with inspecting his weapons as well.

Despite its defensive nature, his shield was offensive as well, a curved orange rectangle almost as tall as King himself; its weight was sizable, but he could easily carry it in one hand. A foot thick and incredibly durable, it boasted the additional function of absorbing any plasma that touched its surface and redirecting it through the green focusing jewel set in its center. The ax, on the other hand, was a much more simple tool. Though it was of course forged of the most durable, plasma-deflective alloy known to civilization, it held no technological secrets, no circuitry within it.

Both were, as King had said, in perfect condition. It took her only a few minutes to finish her examination of them, after which she simply sat and remained alert as King stayed in his trance. She wasn't sure just how much time passed, minutes or hours, before his eyes regained their focus and he turned to her again.

"They're ready, your majesty," she said quietly.

"As am I." He nodded slowly, as he turned to the end of the table, where the tenth seat at its foot still rose from the floor. A chair which had been built many decades ago, for Mega Man X, and him alone. "The seat perilous has been filled, and it is time." He set one foot on the floor, and then another. Green cloak swirling, he took up ax and shield, for the first time in more than a century.

"It has begun."

**April 24, 2185, 3:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

For the rest of her life, Alia would always remember where she had been and what she'd been doing when the end began.

"You're not _serious!_" She told Mega Man X as the two of them walked down the halls of the MHHQ together, on just another day like any other they'd shared for half a century. He'd returned late the previous evening, and various bureaucratic duties had kept them both busy separately for most of the day, so they hadn't had much chance to discuss what he'd seen and heard on his latest trip to Mecha until now. For some reason, going that long without seeing him had made her uncharacteristically anxious, a bad sign under any circumstances.

"I wish." X shook his head; he'd hid it well, but she'd seen the brief flash of relief in his eyes as soon as she'd joined him, telling of the same feeling as her. It brought back memories of her conversation with Douglas a few days ago, but she'd forced those thoughts aside; the situation was what it was, and there was no changing it now. "But I am. They actually believe that. It's completely ridiculous."

"Ridiculous is one word for it," she murmured, trying to cope with the complete absence of logic inherent in Mecha's plans. "Irrational is another. Or insane. Insane is good. Paranoid, although that seems like something of an understatement. I'd even go so far as to consider superstitious. There are some others, of course, but I'd rather not say them aloud."

"Huh." He met her eyes, frowning slightly. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?"

"Having the absolute ruler of a recently discovered, completely secret underground city-state inhabited entirely by Robot Masters-one which we have recently signed an illegal treaty with-openly confess to his own insanity?" She rattled off without a moment's pause. "Yes, I'd say that's some cause for concern."

"At least he's aware of it," X reminded her. "Now we know why he's taken steps to limit his own role in the government. I'd have preferred that he resigned entirely, of course, but Mecha's a bit of a special case, so I can see why he couldn't."

"Considering that those who _do _run things apparently believe this lunacy as well, that doesn't really help matters." She shook her head. "I'm disappointed, to be perfectly honest. I expected better of Countess and Duke. And the rest of them too, I suppose."

"They all seem stable," he pointed out. "If they hadn't intentionally told us about these... beliefs of theirs, we'd never have known at all. They never gave any signs. It's unfortunate, but it's nothing we can't work with."

"Perhaps," she murmured noncommittally, looking at him; there was something even more thoughtful than usual in his eyes today, and he was staring absently ahead, as if more occupied with his own thoughts than on what was going on around him. "You seem a great deal more accepting of them than you were before."

"Don't get me wrong," he assured her. "I know it's crazy, too, just as much as you do. I'm not arguing that. That wasn't all that happened down there, though."

"Well, yes," she agreed. "There was also the meeting you had with..." she paused, conscious of the possibility of monitoring devices. They'd started their conversation in a dead room, and only once he'd finished telling her about the "Scion's Zenith" had they left it to finish talking on their way to join the rest of the top brass in the War Room. "Your old friends. Who else are we going to bring in on that secret, by the way?"

"That depends on which way the next few days go," X said after a moment's thought. "If nothing happens, then Signas, definitely. Javier should probably know; he served under... one of my old friends, back in the day. The rest, we'll leave up to Signas."

"If nothing happens," she repeated quietly. "But you don't think that's going to be the case, do you?"

"No, I don't." He shook his head. "The particulars of their theory might be crazy, but I think Mecha's right about the generalities. Something's going to happen, soon. We can all feel it in the air, even if Sigma wasn't acting so bizarre. And when it does... well, maybe we should hold off on making any long term plans until we see just what it is."

"You trust them," she realized aloud, and he was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"When I said other things happened, I wasn't referring to that." He continued staring straight ahead as they approached the door to the War Room. "Seeing that graveyard, and... and the displays of my family... that got to me. King might be insane, but the things he's done, the city he built... it's important. It's the last hope of his species. A species which ours would never have been created without. Every reploid in the world owes an immeasurable debt to our precursors, simply for existing. And even without that... yeah, Alia. I think they're on the level."

"I do as well," she agreed with only slight reluctance. "They're eccentric, alien, primitive in some regards and deliberately secretive... but I believe they're honest, now. I don't think they've ever deliberately lied to us."

"No, they haven't." He nodded as the doors opened. "And that, combined with good intentions, is enough for me. For now."

"Are my ears burning?" Duke commented slyly, glancing their way from where he was standing next to Signas' chair at the center of the room, halfway down and in the middle of that tier; the liaison from Mecha had yet to have his own seat added, but so far he hadn't complained. "I suppose I should be glad that the discussion seems to be complimentary."

"How did you know?" Douglas asked him, looking up from his own seat. He and Lifesaver were both there, a rare sight; Simon was more frequent, as was Alia herself for obvious reasons, but the two of them were almost always too busy in their own departments to come to the War Room unless their presence was specifically requested. "How do you always know? You barely caught the tail end of that conversation."

"Good instincts, my boy," Duke told him. "Good instincts have always served me well."

"Alia." Signas glanced their way as they took their own seats, both of them near his; hers was directly behind X's, one level up. "X. Is there anything to report?"

"The 17th Unit is on standby, and ready to deploy at any time," X told him.

"When I last checked, everything was fine." Alia glanced down at Donia, where she sat behind her desk. "Has anything changed since then?"

"Not a whisper." Donia shook her head; she was one of a dozen different Navigators on duty, enough to fill nearly all of the desks in the lower part of the room; the upper levels were where the top brass sat. "Nothing's come up all day that regional law enforcement can't handle without help from us. To be honest, it's kind of creeping me out."

"Don't speak too soon," Helen called down. Glancing up, Alia realized that in addition to the top five staff members, every one of the Captains was also present, from Lassiter to Ganesheriff. "Ever heard of being careful what you wish for?"

"I wasn't _wishing _for anything," Donia shot back. "Besides, you're one to talk. Weren't you the one who was just bitching about being bored out of your skull five minutes ago?"

"Come on, you two." Suzy rolled her eyes. "Cut it out before one of you _has _to write the other up for insubordination, huh?" Both women subsided, muttering under their breath, and for the next few minutes, nobody spoke to each other. The only sounds were the typing of hands on keyboards and the low murmurs of conversations over headsets.

"Donia's right," X murmured eventually, so quiet that Alia was fairly sure only she could hear. "This is a little _too _much. It's almost four in the afternoon. There should have been _something_, somewhere in the world, by now, even if it was only a bank robbery."

"Commander Signas, sir!" Lily barked abruptly. "I'm picking up a large number of unknown warp signals, and it's still rising!"

"How many?" Signas barked, as everybody stared at the world map on the main projector. Fifty red lights flashed, indicating every remaining major habitation center left on Earth. "And where from?"

"Looks like an island in the South Pacific," she muttered. "Two hundred so far."

"There's another hotspot!" Fio broke in. "Just as many, coming from northern Ireland!"

"I've got some coming from Mount Everest!" Donia yelled, and several more Navigators began pointing out other sources.

"Where they're coming from isn't important!" Alia shouted. "What we need to know is where they're _going! _Somebody start a running tally of just how many there are in total!" She paused, as her own programs alerted her, and looked down. "There's another, in the..." She froze, eyes wide, as she looked at what her projector was telling her.

"Alia?" Simon glanced her way. "Where is it?"

"The Black Sea, in eastern Europe," she murmured, stunned. "And the numbers... they're already over a thousand, and still climbing." Immediately, the War Room erupted into chaos, as everybody began shouting at once.

"It's starting," X alone whispered rather than yelled. "This is it."

"Silence!" Signas bellowed, loudest of all. "Silence, all of you! Now, somebody tell me, _where are they going?_"

"Not all to the same place, thank God," Donia growled. "Looks like they're splitting up. They're heading to a bunch of different city-states. Landing just outside the borders. Chicago, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Bucharest, what's left of Mexico..." She straightened her back. "Sir, we're receiving a call from an unidentified source."

"Put it on the projector," Alia said quietly. "It's probably Sigma. Same old song and dance."

"Do it," Signas agreed, and Donia complied.

In that moment of absolute silence, as everybody in the War Room stared in horrified disbelief, the world went mad.

"No," Signas whispered, once, quietly, as they all took in the emblem that had replaced the world map. A simple insignia, a circle with a single large letter in the center-sharp lines ripped upward, with a pointed bridge between them, angled and neon purple-and two smaller letters, forming an honorific, in the upper left corner. It was a sign that everybody in the room recognized, though it hadn't been used in any of their lifetimes; like the swastika, it had become so infamous in its time as to be recognized even a century later as a representation of absolute evil.

"This is impossible," Alia heard herself whispering, but wasn't conscious of actually speaking the words, her mouth seeming to be on autopilot. "This is illogical. This is insane."

"So, he was right," Duke said quietly; he alone seemed unsurprised. "They were all right. Commander Signas, with your permission, I should be leaving. I'll need to join my people. We'll contact you to coordinate operations."

"Go," Signas told him without so much as glancing his way, still transfixed by the main projector, as the emblem faded away, replaced by a desk. An old man sat behind it, hands clasped before him, surrounded by others. Sigma was there, at his left, and an even larger and more intimidating abomination stood at his right, unfamiliar. Others were behind them all, in two rows, one of eight and one of nine. The old man himself wore a full beard, but no mustache, and his hair was long and wild... yet his features were familiar to them all, though not a single one of them had ever met him.

"Oh," Pitbull growled, his eyes as wide as the rest of them. "Oh, _fuck us._"

"It's a trick," Douglas stammered. "It has to be a trick. This... this can't be real. Right?"

"God help us," Simon said with solemn despair. "God help us all."

"No way," Javier blurted out. "There's just no way this can be happening."

"Zero..." X murmured, and something in his voice made Alia look at him. He was staring not at the old man, but at the monster on his right. "Oh, Zero... what have they done to you?"

**April 24, 2185, 3:48 PM (Tokyo) **

**Earth **

The broadcast went out around the world, to every place and every projector capable of picking it up, and even some that shouldn't have been. In Europe, in Asia, in the Americas, in Australia and Africa and even in the Antarctic Colonies. In every walled city-state that had survived Eurasia's fall, every distant colony in every forsaken place where even the wasteland could not spread, even in isolated habitations where small groups of people lived alone in the sands, a message was spread through the lines of communication. A message of despair.

In Mexico, where the government had fallen and anarchy was consuming the remnants day by day, everything ground to an immediate halt. In New York, where the seat of the U.S. Government had moved after Washington D.C.'s fall could no longer be denied, in order to maintain an uneasy control over the other three remaining city-states within what had once been the most powerful country in the world, panic swept the streets. In Berlin, where the people's determination not to repeat the mistakes of the past had kept their home orderly throughout World War and Robot Rebellions and Maverick Uprisings, there was horror and disbelief.

In the streets of Iran, hundreds of people fell to their knees whispering prayers even as others screamed the vilest possible epithets towards the heavens. In Cuba, where the survivors of fallen Central American island countries had eventually banded together on the last of their kind to remain, the city-state exploded as thousands questioned if what they saw could possibly be real. In Beijing, it was as if the entire population center were filled with statues, nearly everybody completely motionless in terror as they watched what was about to descend upon the world.

In Toronto, the government's attempts to reassure their people went unheeded, as despite the fact that their home was not one of those immediately targeted, nobody doubted that their day would come all too soon. In Schroeder, the single remaining habitable location on Australia, a multitude of emotions blazed trails through the population, all of them highly charged and all of them negative. In Bucharest, there was panic and chaos as the realization that the source of evil was right on their doorstep set in, and evacuation attempts were met with the sight of enemy armies surrounding them.

The greatest shock of all, though, was in the city-state of Japan, for it had been there that everything had began. Where two Doctors had fled after saving the world and being exiled from their own homeland as thanks, where they had started up a robotics company that had changed everything. Where Robot Masters had been born, and then reploids after them, bringing with them the Robot Rebellions and the Maverick Uprisings that had caused the deaths of millions, human and robot alike. There, the people knew better than anybody what the return of a single old man meant.

Though everybody who saw the broadcast realized what it meant, and reacted accordingly, the elderly among them were the most stricken. Those whose parents and grandparents had lived through the horror of the Robot Rebellions, and had told their children grim tales of those dark days... and in some extreme cases, thanks to modern technology, those few ancient survivors who _had _been alive in those times themselves... could only stare, wide-eyed and pale, as they saw the face of the one who they had believed was finally gone, never to return.

On massive projectors adorning the fronts of skyscrapers, on private sets in domestic homes, on giant boards in sports stadiums, in supposedly secure locations in the heart of government strongholds, the message was the same. An old man, sitting behind a desk, his face recognizable despite his beard and his change of hairstyle. Sigma, the Maverick Emperor standing at his left, and an unknown yet terrifying behemoth at his right. A line of maniacs in white and gold behind them, with another just beyond, this one composed of some of the greatest monsters of the Maverick Uprisings, reborn anew.

From the underwater facility that had slept beneath the depths of the Black Sea in secrecy for a hundred years, ever since the end of the Robot Rebellions, a message went out across the world. And the people watched and listened, in terror and disbelief, as the old man behind the desk smiled, and spoke to them.

_ "Friends, reploids, countrymen... lend me your fears. _

_ I'm sorry, that was terrible, wasn't it? Somebody once told me that you should always start this sort of thing with a joke, but old men always have a terrible sense of humor, don't they? And I daresay I'm about as old as it gets, and quite a bit more than it should. Then again, my sense of humor was always somewhat strange. Most of my sons seem to have inherited that, as far as I know, so I suppose it runs in the family. I'd say that it was genetic, but seeing as genes weren't really involved in any of them, that wouldn't be accurate, strictly speaking. _

_ Please allow me to introduce myself. I'll even skip the part about being a man of wealth and taste. My name is Doctor Albert William Wily... or was it William Albert Wily? I can't actually remember, to be honest. Not that it particularly matters at this point, does it? Please, just call me Dr. Wily. That's all anybody ever calls me these days anyway. It's actually somewhat flattering, to be so well known, but to be perfectly honest, I think I deserve it by now. I've certainly done enough to earn it, even if I've been out of the spotlight for quite a while now. _

_ I would say that rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, but really, there weren't very many who even _knew _that I was supposedly dead, and they didn't spread it around much. Most of them have passed on, by now, as have almost all my old friends from when I was younger. One of the hazards of old age, I suppose. As much as I miss them, though, I manage to endure. I'm rather looking forward to meeting their descendants, actually. I'm quite curious as to how much they'll have in common with those who I knew. _

_ It's been quite a while, hasn't it, everybody? A hundred years, since the end of the Robot Rebellions, and the age of Robot Masters as well. Honestly, I was disappointed with humanity for that unfortunate state of affairs. After all the work me and my old friend Tom put into the creation of an entirely new form of sentient life, as soon as we step off stage, the rest of you go and decide you don't want them any more? Come now, you should have known better than that, even if the United Nations had fallen apart. Not that _that _was a surprise to the class, by that point. _

_ It really has been an interesting couple of centuries that I've had the pleasure of living through, hasn't it? Ah, the days of the Third World War, back when I was still young enough to believe in hope. I never really knew just how good I had it, back then, compared to the state the world's in now. The Robot Rebellions, the Wars of 2090, the Maverick Uprisings, the Fall of Eurasia... we've been a busy little planet, especially when it comes to destroying ourselves. I'll admit, I've been responsible for quite a lot of that, but certainly not all of it. _

_ That's part of why I decided to retire, in the end. Not the only reason by a long shot, of course, but part of it. I wanted to take some time off and see what would happen if I left the world to its own devices for a while, now that I'd left my mark on it. Say what you will about my little old Robot Rebellions, but they _did _make a difference. Mainly in population numbers, but there were other factors as well. I'm sure that to all of you living in the present, they probably seem like nothing special by now, but in their time they were quite the phenomenon, I assure you. _

_ Of course, all good things must come to an end, and when factors converged to force my retirement after the Ninth, I saw the way the wind was blowing and decided that I really could use it. It took a while after that before things started getting interesting again, but once they did, I was quite pleasantly surprised by just how well they went. As a veteran of every recent mass murder on a global scale for the past couple of centuries, I have to give the Maverick Uprisings five out of five stars. Especially that bit with Eurasia. Very well done, that. _

_ Oh, where _are _my manners? I've been rambling, haven't I? And I haven't even introduced any of my friends here, let alone given them a chance to speak. My family would be so disappointed in me... well, if most of them hadn't written me off already. I'm sure that everybody recognizes this gentleman standing to my left; he's made almost as much of a name for himself as I have. You could even call him my successor, from a certain point of view. Would you like to take a moment and say a few words to the world, Sigma?" _

_ "Why not? Thank you, Doctor Wily. Hello, everybody. My name is Sigma, former Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and currently supreme ruler of the Mavericks. I trust I don't need to waste anybody's time by listing my resume further. Unlike my esteemed partner, I'm afraid I've never had much flair for public speaking. I'm a military man, and I've always preferred to be direct, so I'll just skip right to the point. To any and all reploids across the world, I would like to extend a very special, limited time offer. _

_ In the past, our hiring policy has been somewhat selective, mainly based on usefulness to the cause. No more. From this day forward, the Mavericks will now be accepting any and all volunteers who wish to join us of their own free will. Young or old, male or female, regardless of strength or intelligence or any other factor, you will be welcomed into our ranks. Simply ask any Maverick under my command to enlist you, and your request will be granted immediately. Of course, infection is mandatory, but there's no such thing as a free lunch. _

_ Unfortunately, this offer is exclusive to reploids. To those humans watching, I'm afraid that all I can promise you in return for compliance is mercy. At any time, should you ask for a quick and painless death from any of my Mavericks, we will be all too happy to fulfill that request as well. It's not much, I'm aware, but it's certainly likely to be more pleasant than the alternative. Just look at history if you don't believe me. We've established a precedent by now, to put it lightly. Thank you again, Doctor Wily. Now, back to you." _

_ "And thank you, Sigma, for your magnanimity towards your own kind. Ladies and gentlemen, Sigma. Hero, soldier, savior of the reploids. I am honored to collaborate with a man of such distinguished military history. Unfortunately, my friend on my right is even more taciturn than he, although he's not quite as well known. Ladies and gentlemen, humans and reploids and robot masters, allow me to introduce my son, Omega. He's a man of few words, but I'm sure you'll all get to know him quite well in these coming months. _

_ While we're on the subject of introductions, these other gentlemen in the first row behind me-and lady, of course-are also some very good friends of mine, who I have the honor of calling my Disciples. From left to right, please meet Deathtanz Mantisk, Blazin' Flizard, Childre Inarabitta, Hellbat Schilt, Glacier Le Cactank, Cubit Foxtar, Volteel Biblio and Tretista Kelverian. We'll all be getting to know you quite well over the next few years, so I'll save the more detailed introductions until then, to save time. _

_ I'm afraid I'm not personally familiar with those in the second row, but I have followed all of their careers with great interest over the years, and I'm confident in their abilities as well. Sigma here has assured me that they are the best of the best, an opinion which I find myself in full agreement with. Again, from left to right, we have Double, Violen, Serges, Agile, Dynamo, Bit, Byte, Doctor Doppler and Fluid Ferret. Those of you of more advanced years may remember some or all of them. For those of you who don't, I'm sure they'll be all too happy to meet you. _

_ I suppose that's enough beating around the bush, so I might as well explain just what we're going to be doing, now. You see, I've come out of retirement for a very specific purpose. A comeback show, so to speak, one that I fully intend to be bigger and better than any that either I or Sigma have ever put on before. I'm aware that that we've set quite a precedent for ourselves to beat, over the centuries, but then, where's the fun in life without any challenge? I assure you, we intend to rise to the occasion. _

_ Of course, there are those who we anticipate will prove to be rather uncooperative. The Maverick Hunters, based out of Tokyo, Japan, are quite well known for their expertise in handling such matters. I've never crossed paths with them myself, of course, but I've been watching them, and Sigma here has assured me of their competence. To the Hunters, then, I extend my most heartfelt salutations, and I look forward to getting to know you better. I'm sure we'll have many opportunities to do so. In particular, I anticipate the prospect of meeting my youngest 'nephew,' so to speak. Hello, Mega Man X. I'm your 'uncle' Al. It's nice to finally be able to greet you. _

_ Other allies of theirs are not quite so well known, but I'm sure that will change shortly. To the citizens of Mecha, I would also like to give my respects, especially towards your ruler. I'll leave your introduction to you, so as not to spoil the surprise, but it's been quite a long time, hasn't it? We really do need to get back together for a family reunion. I'm sure you're as eager to see me again as I am to you. It shouldn't be difficult to get a hold of me. My schedule's going to be rather busy, I'm afraid, but I can always make time for what's really important. _

_ I'm sure you've all grasped the reality of the situation by now, but for those of you who remain mired in skepticism, allow me to explain. This is not a trick. This is not a test. This is not a joke. This is not a terrorist attack, or a murder spree. This is not a natural disaster, and it is not a military coup. This is not a Robot Rebellion, nor is it a Maverick Uprising. Ladies and gentlemen, reploids and humans and Robot Masters... this is a declaration of war. Here and now, representing an alliance of the Faithful and the Mavericks, I declare war against every nation in the world. _

_ There will be no surrender, no negotiation, no concession, and no compromise. Human, reploid, Robot Master, it makes no difference. Sentient or not, biological or mechanical, if you live, then we will kill you. With an army of ten thousand Faithful and twenty thousand Mavericks, we will exterminate all life on this planet that is not ours. We will not stop until every last trace of civilization save for our own has been completely obliterated. You've done very well in surviving everything that's happened for the last two centuries, but this is where it ends. _

_ Welcome, all, to curtain call." _


	10. Intermission: Between The Lines

_**Intermission: Between The Lines **_

**Time Unknown **

**Place Unseen **

He walked in darkness.

The hall was black, wall and ceiling, floor and doors, and there was not a single trace of light to be seen. It stretched on for who knew how long before making a turn to the right, and he knew that after two more right turns, it would end in stairs leading downwards to the next level. Doors lined both sides, but he ignored them; none of them were the one he wanted. He _was _on the right floor, though, that much he could tell. To navigate the inside of the Gray House was something that required a sense that could not be explained, only learned without words, through experience.

Though he could have created light for himself through at least three different ways-his systems, the holograms with which he'd always been so skilled, or other techniques that he'd only learned after his death-he knew better than to try. Something about the dark halls themselves abhorred it, and those foolish enough to defy the darkness were repaid for their mistake in short order. The trick, then, was to learn to see _without _light, a trick that very few could master. Thankfully, it had been an automatic benefit, when he'd become what he now was.

Turning the corner, he saw the door he wanted; he would have known which it was even without two more of his kind standing on either side of it in their gray cloaks, identical to his own. Their hoods were up, and they held their scythes at their sides, but neither of them turned their heads to look at him as he approached. One was human and one was reploid, but he drew no distinction between the two; he knew them both well, and had actually recruited one of them himself. As far he was concerned, they were both Reapers, like him, and that was all that mattered.

"They're ready for you," the human said once he stood before him, his voice deep and resonant and formal. Marcus had been a soldier in the U.S. Army before his death during the First World War, and he'd never quite gotten over the rigid military mannerisms he'd learned back in those days, but he was a good man. "Enter."

"All right." He nodded to them both before walked between them, and opening the door and walking into a room as bright as the hall had been dark. Here, everything was made of white rather than black, though _what _it was made of, he'd never learned; it was not stone or metal or wood or anything else, but some other, unidentifiable substance that emitted light, so bright as to blind a normal soul. He was not normal, though, any more than the other Reapers were, and he didn't so much as squint as he closed the door behind him.

They sat before him in a half-circle, gray-cloaked like himself and those who'd stood at the doors, though they carried no scythes. The Eldest, they were called, and eldest they were; ancient beyond imagination, those who had been chosen to this duty before humanity had even discovered iron. Thirteen of them, who never left this room, whose only task now was to preside over those who had succeeded them. Rumor had it that one of them was the First, but nobody except the Eldest themselves knew which of them it was... or who it was that had reaped _his _soul, and given him the duty to do so to all who would die after him.

"DWN000 Doc Man," one of the Eldest said quietly, his voice crude and guttural, after a long, silent moment.

"That's my name," Doc Man, son of Wily, replied as he pulled back his hood, exposing his bald, skull-faced head. Lowering himself to one knee, he bowed before them. "I was told that you wished to see me."

"You have served well," another one of them told him. "For more than a century now, you have done your duty admirably, though your record has not been exactly spotless. Regardless, your dedication to the service has never been in question, and so your occasional mistakes have been overlooked so far."

"I'd say I was only human," Doc Man replied, shrugging and standing again. "But that's not really true, now is it?"

"It is not." Another of the Eldest shook his head slowly. "There are many humans in our service, and in recent years, several reploids have been accepted as well, recruited by yourself. You, however, are unique in the Grey House, as the only Robot Master who has ever taken up our scythe. We thought it best that your kind be represented here by one of their own, and of them all, you were uniquely qualified for the position. You were even able to remember us when you were revived, which we had always thought to be impossible."

"I always figured it was a result of everything my brain went through, back in the world of the living," Doc Man said. "_That _was something rather unprecedented."

"Indeed it was," the Eldest sitting directly to the left of the one in the center told him, his voice cold and hard. "And because of your unique status, we even overlooked your previous attempt to violate the Laws of Death. But now, it seems you have done so a second time." He drew himself up, seeming to somehow become larger, and when he spoke again his voice was _different_, no longer his own. "_The dead can not reveal the truth to the living._"

"I have not," Doc Man replied quietly, mind racing.

"You deny your crimes?" Another of them said, her voice deep and cunning despite its rough tones. "You deny that you have _spoken _to your brother, who still lives in the world below? DWN027 King?"

"I have spoken to him," Doc Man admitted. "But I have revealed no truths to him."

"Your sophistry will avail you naught," the one who'd spoken before her did so again, scornful. "If he knows of your existence at all, you have violated yet another Law, by revealing your existence to one who could not see you himself. Your brother is not one with the potential to join our service. His eyes are not changing to see what is unseen."

"They are not." Doc Man shook his head. "His ability to perceive the dead comes from another source. An error which was not anticipated by any of us, and which cannot be rectified. He touched the Veil, and yet he lived, and ever since then he has been frozen between life and death in a way that few have ever been. That is why he can see the dead, and hear our voices, though none have ever spoken to him but I."

"Do you think this is a joke?" Another of the Eldest snarled, second to the left of the center. "Does this amuse you, Doc Man? Because _we _are not amused."

"Nor am I," Doc Man growled back, and despite the fact that his skeletal grin was a permanent feature of his frozen face, somehow he was no longer smiling. "I know better than any, even yourselves, how serious this matter is." Ignoring the ripple of disapproval that ran through the Eldest at that statement, he continued. "I speak to King _because _I know just how much is now at risk. I tell him no truths, but I guide his own thoughts and theories, yes. I admit this. Because _that _is how desperate the situation is now."

"You speak of the Maverick Virus," the shortest and smallest of the Eldest murmured, his voice unemotional. "Of your sister. She who, alone in this universe, now commands one of the two powers that were brought here from beyond the light."

"_Yes,_" Doc Man snarled. "Her ascension draws near. She has incorporated nearly a million souls into her own, and once she crosses that threshold, she will come into her true power, a power that even those from which hers was derived did not truly understand. Even now, she breaches the Laws of Death. She has already done so."

"Sigma?" One of them scoffed. "He has survived many deaths, this is true, but none of them were the True Death. That is still in his future."

"Not him." Doc Man shook his head. "Others, who were once hers, before dying the True Death. I confirmed my suspicions before coming here. She has _returned _them. They live again, once more bound to her will."

"Impossible!" The one left of center blurted. "Ridiculous!"

"And yet, it is true." Reaching inside his cloak, Doc Man produced their files. "Eight souls, which had passed on, ones which I reaped myself. They are _gone. _Investigate yourselves, if you doubt my words. They have not reincarnated, but they are not here. They are in the World Below once more. A ninth was called as well, but he returned shortly, and I interrogated him immediately to verify the truth."

"Then you know," another murmured, and that was enough to confirm his own suspicions about how much _they _knew.

"_Yes._" His eyes and his smile both began to glow red, unconsciously, as he looked from one of them to another. "It is as I have warned you, as I have _always _warned you, and now it has begun. This is _more _than one planet, now. She is ascending, and she _knows _of us. She is a threat to _all _reality, rather than her world alone. She is a threat to _us. _Did you think I would take these risks if it were not necessary?"

"It is because of your own actions that this has come to pass!" The second to the left of center yelled. "Because of your words to King, that caused his servant to create that which unified the scattered fragments of Sigma's soul _before _his death, rather than after! If you had not done that, she never would have followed that trail back here!"

"It was only a matter of time," Doc Man shot back. "Had she not learned of it through that means, then he who created her would have told her of it. _The Eighth Survivor. _Though he does not possess her power, his mad genius may prove to be even more dangerous, as I have _always _warned you. He controls her through knowledge of her own nature, more than even her own, and rewards her service by teaching her of it, one bit at a time. Eventually, he would have told her what she learned by following Sigma's trail."

"So," one of them spoke, for the first time, the one sitting directly right of the center. "_That's _why you tried to make a break for it, after the Ninth Robot Rebellion. When you tried to recreate your physical form, in defiance of the Laws."

"Yes." Doc Man bowed his head. "That was a mistake, and I am penitent... but I do not regret the purpose for which I made the attempt. I wanted to kill them, before they awakened. My youngest siblings, sister and brother, who shared a single body at that point of time. And my father, who created them, and who yet lives to spread the curse of his existence to the world. I was caught before I could do so, and the age of the Robot Masters ended on schedule... and now, we see what has become of that. This _must _be stopped, o Eldest ones."

"What of the other Survivors, then?" Another of them asked, second to the right of center.

"The First through the Fourth have all died the True Death." Doc Man shook his head slowly. "Sergei Cossack. Kalinka Cossack. Darwin Vinkus. Trenton Corbun. They have passed on, and are with their own once more, now. The Sixth Survivor, however... he will fight her, along with Mega Man X, and all who stand with them. _That _is why I spoke to him. In order to prepare him for what is to come They're going to need every advantage they can get, if they're going to be stand a chance of stopping this now."

"And the others?" The woman who'd spoken before said. "The Fifth and the Seventh?"

"The Fifth Survivor sleeps, beneath the earth," Doc Man replied. "In time, he will awaken, and join the fight as well. The Seventh, however... he who comes from beyond the light... no. He will never return to that planet again. It's all up to them, now. To those who still remain."

"You have altered the situation," the one second to the right of center told him, his rough voice containing neither approval nor condemnation. "Changed the variables, through your actions. The amount of possibility has increased."

"Yes." Doc Man slowly nodded. "I have. In order to _improve _our chances. The more possible outcomes there are, the greater the chances that that which comes to pass will be favorable. For us, and for the world. For _all _the worlds."

"You believe they stand a chance, then," the one directly right of center said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I do." Doc Man lowered his head. "And all that I have done was to improve their chances of success. For our own existence may depend on it as well, now." He stood there in silence for some time, he knew not how long, before another of them spoke once more.

"Go," the Eldest in the center told him, speaking for the first time. "Return to your duties. We will consider your words."

"As you command." Bowing once more, Doc Man turned and left.

"How'd it go?" The reploid standing outside asked him, her voice calm, once he'd closed the door. Morrigan was one of his best friends, along with her lover, Lee; he'd been a Maverick Hunter, and she a staff member in the funeral department, before their deaths. Doc Man had always found the irony of that to be more than slightly amusing.

"Hard to say, with them," he replied. "I've still got my job, but beyond that..." He shrugged. "I'm going back out. See you and Lee tonight at the usual time?"

"We'll be there," she promised. "Good luck."

"Luck," Marcus agreed.

"For all of us." Doc Man winked before walking down the hall again, towards the stairs leading downwards, despite the fact that that wasn't the way he'd come. One could always head down, but never up, and there was no bottom floor; the halls of the Gray House were like that. Eventually, he found the door he was looking for, one just like any other. Opening it, he walked out of the front of the House, into the misty gray precipice above the world of the living. It stood slightly to the side of the Gates, something which was probably symbolic, though he didn't really know much about such things.

"Hey!" Looking over, he saw somebody walking towards the edge, somebody who wore no gray cloak. "Hey, hey, what are you doing? You're not supposed to be out here without one of us supervising you!" Running over, he slowed down once he saw who it was; a stout man in his early seventies, with snow-white hair and an impressive beard of the same color, clad in a labcoat and brown slacks. "Oh, it's you. Well, I guess that explains _how _you got out." He paused. "Well, actually, no, it doesn't. I _still _don't know how you do that."

"Eh." Dr. Thomas Light shrugged, before glancing over his shoulder and smiling. "What's up, Doc?"

"Really?" Doc Man asked him flatly. "Did you really just go there?"

"I couldn't resist." Dr. Light chuckled, and after a moment, Doc Man laughed as well. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to sneak down there again. I just wanted to go see how Al was doing."

"About the same as always." Doc Man sighed. "For a while there, I thought he was getting better. He stopped hurting himself, even if he was still completely unresponsive, once Zero got up here. But now that he's gone back..." He shook his head.

"Ah." Dr. Light frowned. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I've been thinking about that," Doc Man explained. "I think maybe it's more finding something for _him _to do. If we can come up with something that would distract him, that would keep him busy, I think maybe that would help. Of course, actually getting _through _to him that he was supposed to do it would be another story. He's moving, but there doesn't seem to be any actual thought going on. Practically catatonic."

"I'm sure there's something," Dr. Light murmured. "I'll think about it and see what I can come up with."

"I'd appreciate it." Doc Man nodded as they both approached the precipice. "You know him better than anybody."

"Once, I would have argued that." Dr. Light shook his head, deliberately avoiding looking at the old man who still remained near there. "But now... he's become the man I know once more." He looked at Doc Man then. "What will happen to him, if... the one down there... is brought here?"

"Will they become one again, you mean?" Doc Man shrugged. "I really don't know. This was unprecedented." He glanced at his father once, then averted his eyes as well; even if the damage always healed itself, watching his obsessive self-mutilation wasn't pleasant. "Some days I worry that maybe that's why he's like this. That what came up here... isn't complete. That he doesn't _have _the part of him that's capable of rational thinking right now."

"I don't think so." Light shook his head. "No... that was what convinced me that this _is _Albert. This is the friend I lost. When I saw his eyes, I knew that what he did, what he does... is because he's trying to cope with what he became. With becoming something far worse than any of the madmen and monsters who we dealt with in our younger days. One of which he killed himself." He finally glanced at the object of their discussion, eyes filled with sorrow. "Dan Grevis was his name. Did I ever tell you about that?"

"That was the time the U.S. Government tried press-ganging you two, right?" Doc Man recalled. "I remember that. You know, I don't think any of us kids ever realized just how much you two went through while we were alive. Not really. Even when we heard the stories, we didn't really think of it on the same level as what _we _were doing."

"Well, there weren't quite so many duels to the death involved," Dr. Light admitted. "But the times certainly were just as troubled, regardless." He smiled then. "If there's one upside to my time being past... it's seeing all of them again. Now that Trenton's joined us, the gang's all here." His smile died. "Or at least, we will be once Darwin finishes his sentence. Assuming he even wants to join us, after how much he's changed."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Doc Man told him. "Something about this place... it makes it easier to remember the good times, instead of the bad ones. Easier to forgive, if not to forget. To move on. Look at the two of us. How likely was it that we'd be sitting here shooting the shit like this before we died? Ever?"

"I thought we got along fairly well that time you kidnapped me," Dr. Light pointed out, and Doc Man winced.

"I am _really _sorry about that. I was a different person, then."

"Literally, as I recall," Dr. Light cracked, and despite himself, Doc Man snorted a laugh. "The past aside, though, we are family, nephew. Not to mention our mutual interests." He lowered his head. "Although if we're talking about what's owed, I think it's I who is indebted to you."

"Huh?" Doc Man blinked, caught off guard.

"I never thanked you," Dr. Light explained. "For covering for me, when I _did _go down there, after Eurasia's fall. Official story aside, I never would have been able to pull that off without your help. Thank you, nephew."

"Tch." Doc Man glanced away, scratching his bald head, embarrassed. "You're family, and so's the kid. I never got what that meant until I came up here, but now I do. That wasn't his time to die, and _somebody _had to do something. We were the only ones who were able and willing." He sighed heavily. "I just wish I knew what the side effects are doing to him now."

"It's begun, then?" Dr. Light asked.

"Yeah." Doc Man nodded grimly. "Even his doctor's noticed it. They still haven't connected the dots as to what it _is_, though. The energy's building up, but it hasn't reached the point where his body's started to change just yet. Depending on the way it goes down there, who knows how long that's going to take."

"Is it like what happened to you, when you took up your new line of work?" Dr. Light raised an eyebrow. "What _was _it like, when that first happened? I've always been curious."

"Kind of, but not really." Doc Man shrugged. "With us, most of the changes happen while we're unconscious. As soon as we die the final death. I didn't wake up until after. It's mostly the eyes, for Reapers. Seeing what others cannot is fifty percent of it. And we still retain the form we feel most comfortable in, like any other soul."

"What will happen to X, then?" The Doctor said softly, looking out over the world he'd spent so many years healing and protecting. "What is my son becoming, because of what I did to him when I prolonged his life?"

"I wish I could tell you," Doc Man said somberly. "If I knew myself, I would. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Just like always." Dr. Light sighed.

"Our time is past," Doc Man reminded him. "All we can do now is trust in those who remain. Trust in Mega Man X, and in Zero Omega, and in all those who follow them to do what none of us were ever able to."

The old man stood up.

It took a moment for both of them to register it, and when they did, they turned their heads slowly, almost as if disbelieving. And yet, what they saw was not a man consumed in insane self-loathing. What stood before them now, though he shook like a leaf with every breath, was one whose body-or perhaps soul-was weak, but whose eyes were filled with determination.

"Zero," Doctor Albert Wily said softly, steadily, staring not at his own hands, but straight ahead. "Zero Omega. My son."

"Yes, Albert," Dr. Light said cautiously, not yet moving. "Your youngest son. Do you remember?"

"I remember," Dr. Wily replied, still not looking at either of them. "My youngest. He still lives. Him, and his brother, King... and their sister."

"They do," Doc Man agreed. "Down there. For now."

"No." Dr. Wily whispered, and though his tone was still quiet, the sheer force of will in his voice caused both of their eyes to widen. And then he began walking forward, one step at a time, slow and steady. "Not for now. This is not the end. This _will not _be the end."

"Dad, wait." Doc Man held out a hand, but didn't move towards him. "Look, I get what you're saying. Where you're coming from. But you're _dead. _We're _all _dead here."

"My son..." Wily finally turned to look at him, sorrow etched upon his ancient features. "Because of my sins... my madness... you and your brother both died before your time. I should have given you both lives full of hope... instead, I gave you nothing but despair. The same despair which has haunted your siblings for every moment since they opened their eyes, and still does."

"It wasn't your fault, Albert." Dr. Light reached out a hand as well, as Dr. Wily continued walking towards the precipice ahead of them. "It was that terrible accident when we tested teleportation that-"

"It _was _my fault, Tom," Dr. Wily snarled, lowering his head and pausing for a moment. "Even before that, I was already crossing lines I never should have. All that my madness did was make me stop caring about how far I went. And now, because of that, the world bleeds once more, as do my children and yours. _Our children, Tom._" He started walking again, and as he did, the tattered, ragged clothes he wore began to repair themselves until he was once more clad in the immaculate garb he had always worn as a human.

"I have heard that in this place, in time, that all sins are forgiven," he continued, both speaking and walking, and neither of them made any move towards him, even as he approached the edge. "That no damnation is truly eternal, that with repentance will come eventual absolution. Perhaps. Personally, I can think of a few people who would never deserve that, no matter how long their suffering, myself among them. But even if I am forsaken, they are not. Not yet. It may be too late to stop what is happening... but I _will not _simply sit here and _watch._"

And then, before either of them could stop him, he hurled himself over the edge of the afterlife, and fell.

"_God fucking damn it all!_" Doc Man erupted, running forward too late to stop him. "_How _do you people _keep doing that?_"

"Don't ask me." Dr. Light shrugged helplessly. "I worked in robotics and networking, not in..." He frowned thoughtfully. "Necrology? Morilogy? What _would_ you call the study of... this?"

"Do I _look _like _I _have a degree in this shit?" Doc Man yelled, standing at the edge and staring down after his creator.

"Relax," Dr. Light told him, walking up as well. "You'll be able to track him, right?"

"Sure I will," Doc Man snapped, still looking down. "But the space between is strictly a no-passing lane. I won't be able to _catch_ him until he actually arrives. Son of a _bitch_."

"I never knew your grandmother, but I'm still fairly sure she didn't deserve that," Dr. Light commented mildly, and Doc Man twitched.

"Fuck it all," he groaned. "Garfield was _right _about Mondays. I'm going after him. Don't even _think _about making a run for it when I'm not looking, or I swear, I _will _drag you back by the _face _this time." Without waiting for a response, he hurled himself down towards the planet after Dr. Wily, as Dr. Light watched him fall. He continued to watch as the glow of life that emanated from the world below began to fade, his thoughts a mystery to all but himself.

As the lives of those who had survived Eurasia's fall began to flicker out.


	11. Chapter 9: Falling Skies

_**Chapter 9: Falling Skies **_

**Duo's Log 001 **

**1 Earth Day since departure **

My name is Duo.

I do not know why that is my name.

I do not know why I exist, or why all of my kind once did, though I am the last of us to remain. I do not know how long I have existed, or how long my people have. I do not know where I, or we, came from, and I do not know who created us. I know that I and we _were _created, but that is all. I do not even know how, for the abilities we possess are far beyond the understanding of any other lifeform I have ever met. Even the question of _what _I am is one that I can only answer in part, and that due to interaction with others rather than my own understanding.

The people of Earth would call me a robot, and by their definitions, that is what I am. My body is made of metal rather than flesh, built rather than grown, created rather than born. I am what some would call an artificial life form. Even that similarity is only partial, however, for I am unlike any robot that lives on Earth. I am not certain of many things about myself, but this I do know: I was not created by the hands of humanity. My origin is elsewhere entirely. I am a robot, but I am also what would be called an extraterrestrial. And to my knowledge, I am the last of my kind.

When I first awakened, I was not alone. Others were there as well, others who I came into contact with as we explored the universe. From one planet to another, one star to the next, we traveled, sometimes individually and sometimes in numbers. We had no homeworld that we knew of, no source from which we came. Even the eldest of us had no memory of what came before her activation, alone in the stars. There was nothing for us, save for what we made for ourselves, as we continued our journey through the cosmos.

As we explored, we had two goals that drove us, two missions which shaped the course of our lives. The first was to find what we had lost before our activation, for we knew that logically, we could not have simply come into being fully functional. Somewhere out there, in some corner of existence we had not yet discovered, we believed that our homeworld still existed. Whether our creators still lived, we were less confident of, but even should nothing remain of them but ruins and remnants, that would still tell us much of our origins.

Our second duty was more immediate, for we were not alone. Others existed as well, others who possessed the same capabilities as us, and whose bodies were similar as well. Other robots, of origin equally unknown, but at cross purposes to us. Where we desired only to explore, learn, and grow, these others had a more sinister purpose in mind behind their travels. They brought death and destruction with them, as part and parcel of their very existence. I do not know whether they chose that path of their own will, or if they were simply incapable of voluntary coexistence by their inherent nature, but regardless of reason, it was clear that only one thing would sway them from their mission.

They were our enemies, the enemies of all who lived, and in order to preserve our own existence, we had no choice but to meet destruction with destruction. Whenever our kind and theirs met, as we both traveled throughout the universe, there would immediately be a conflict that would not end until one side or the other had been eradicated. I would feel guilt about the lives I personally took, had I not seen for myself that the evil within them... the power they drew upon... was something that could not be reasoned with or changed, but only eradicated.

Their power. It is one of the greatest mysteries about both my kind and theirs. The strange power source which both gives us life and which we use in combat. In the case of my people, it takes the form of a strange blue light that we can summon at will, give various shapes and forms, and perform many functions. Though it can of course be used destructively, I suspect that it has other purposes as well, some of which I only understand the barest framework of, and likely others that I yet lack the imagination to even attempt.

Regardless, if I had to describe the power which is mine in one word, the word I would use would be, "purification." A human word, but one which seems to best encompass the myriad uses of the blue energy to me. It can destroy, but it can also be used to heal, and on some occasions, it has even shown me the future. The truth, shrouded in the fog of time and perception, but shining true regardless into my mind. Though it may seem presumptuous, I believe with all of my heart and soul-and I believe that I possess both, though I am a robot-that purification is my power. My strength.

Our enemies used a different power source entirely, a power that is abhorrent to me by its very existence. If "purification" is the word best suited to describe our strength, then that of our enemies is perhaps best defined as "corruption." Like ours, it can destroy outright, but that is far from the extent of the damage that can be caused by that power which physically appears to be a glowing purple energy without a visible source save for those who wield it. The energy that is generated within them, that gives them life, so that they might take the life from others.

I have seen, with my own eyes, what happens when that power is turned loose even without an enemy to guide its functions. Its malignant touch corrupts and corrodes the minds and souls of those who draw upon it. It is no wonder to me that our enemies were beyond salvation, for their very life's energy seemed to possess a strange sort of malignancy independent of theirs... or perhaps it would be safer to say that their own hatred was nothing more than a reflection of that which gave them life and sustained their every moment.

With such mutual opposition, in the end, there could be only one result. Eventually, word came from others of my kind that the time had come to finish our conflict once and for all. Both we and our enemies were gathering together, in greater numbers than ever before, for a final battle which would decide once and for all which of us would continue to exist and which would not. This battle took place in a solar system which contained nine planets orbiting their sun, near the sixth, which unbeknownst to us had been named "Jupiter."

Neither we nor our enemies knew, at that time, that the solar system we had chosen as the location for war's end was already inhabited, by forms of sentient life other than our own. Biological life, rather than artificial, highly evolved bipedal mammals dwelling on the third planet from the sun who called themselves "humans," and named their world "Earth." Humans who had already began creating yet more sentient life, robots like ourselves. They called them "Robot Masters," and if sentience was not a guarantee with their kind, it was possible, given sufficient psychological growth.

Our final battle took place unknown to these creatures, as they were unknown to us; I later learned that they had declared what they could see as an inexplicable cosmic phenomenon. In the end, only two remained; myself, and the greatest of our enemies. Though I was able to overcome and kill him, my power was exhausted, and my final attack propelled my unconscious form and his lifeless one towards that third planet. To this day, I do not know if it was simple coincidence, or the strings of fate, which guided our path so accurately.

I was examined and repaired by their civilization's greatest genius, a brilliant doctor by the name of Thomas Xavier Light; it was from him and his family that I first learned the term, "robot," and realized that my own nature was that of one as well. I learned many other things as well, during my time on that planet, though I knew the entire time that one day I would depart. Even without my enemies, my quest for my own homeworld and history still drew me inexorably back into the stars.

Perhaps later, in another entry in this log which I am storing within my own memory databanks, I will describe the time I spent upon that green and blue world, and the experiences I had with the people who lived there. For now, however, I have spent enough time ruminating upon the past, and the future still awaits me. Somewhere out there, the planet which gave birth to my kind waits for me, and the answers to my questions. What am I? Where do I come from? How was I created, and when, and for what purpose?

I will not stop until I find the answers, no matter how many eons I travel, alone in the stars.

**April 23, 2185, 1:00 AM **

**Chicago, the United States **

The city of Chicago had been through a great deal, over the centuries. From the great fire that had consumed buildings and humans both in the nineteenth century, to the crime and violence of Prohibition, to the riots of the nineteen seventies and the brutal suppression that had followed, to the savagery of the Third World War, Chicago had endured. Even when the space colony Eurasia had fallen, reducing the once-mighty United States to a mere four cities that could be reliably protected from the wasteland, Chicago was one of the four, and had thrived in the aftermath.

But now, it was over. The end had come, under clouds of rain and cover of night, and those who had been sleeping had received the rudest awakening imaginable.

As soon as Wily's broadcast had finished, it was replaced by panicked warnings from a government that had suddenly found itself on borrowed time. Their instructions had been brutally direct: Survive, if possible, until reinforcements arrived, while local law enforcement did their best to fend off the attack. Regional Maverick Hunters-a separate, local agency independent of the global organization based in Tokyo-and police forces were all that the city had to protect its citizens from the armies that had fallen from the sky onto their doorstep.

That had been ten minutes ago, and it was already clear even to the civilian eye that Chicago was a lost cause.

Berserker Mavericks, eyes gleaming with bloodlust, stalked the streets like roving packs of predatory animals, killing or infecting everything they saw. Reploids of every shape and size, human, animal and other models entirely, roared their triumph as they carved paths of blood through the city streets. For every one the local defenders managed to cut down, two more took their place, swarming in endlessly from outside the city limits where their forces continued to descend by the hundredfold. Their numbers seemed endless, and their appetite for death even moreso.

In contrast, the cold-eyed Faithful in their white and gold uniforms were calm, emotionless and methodical as they massacred the people of Chicago. With absolute precision, their forces advanced slowly and surely, taking the time to obliterate everything they saw before moving on to the next area. Though they killed cleanly and efficiently, there was just as much glee in their actions as the Mavericks, and their smiles were just as merciless as they cut down human and reploid alike on their mission of destruction.

The greatest terror, however, came from enemies who were neither Maverick nor Faithful, but a tool of the latter. Naturally, both sides had brought robotic drones of far lesser intelligence along to aid in the slaughter; it was a tactic the Mavericks had used since the birth of the Virus, and one that he who had created the Faithful had always viewed in the same approving light. And it was the strongest of these, a unit of eight, who spearheaded the assault on Chicago, causing more absolute destruction than any other.

From the very first Robot Rebellion, more than a century ago, the automation known as the Yellow Devil had always been one of Wily's most infamous servants. A hulking giant more than thirty feet tall, it was formed of a strange, rocklike substance that could become almost fluid at its will, separating into small component cubes that would recombine into the original monster. Its control unit was the only truly mechanical part of it, a black and red eye that could move through the entire monster however it desired, and hide inside a block when the beast broke apart.

Rock Light, the original Mega Man, had fought the Yellow Devil on multiple occasions. Eventually, he had also battled the second of its kind, the gelatinous Green Devil, composed of acidic jelly rather than rock. A third type had apparently surfaced in the aftermath of Eurasia's fall, according to Mega Man X, who brought back reports of encountering a "Black Devil" whose chemical composition he had been unable to verify, guarding Sigma rather than Wily. Nobody had ever been able to explain just how the Maverick Emperor had recreated one of Wily's long-lost creations, though the answer to that question now stood hideously apparent.

All three examples were among the group of eight rampaging through Chicago's streets, and others as well, five more entirely different models of different colors and compositions. What they shared, aside from their cycloptic form, were their orders to leave nothing but ruin in their wake, a task which they pursued with mindless determination. Buildings, vehicles, or even individual people fleeing desperately on foot, they obliterated everything they saw equally as they continued their rampage towards the center of the city.

So intent were they on their rampage, that they did not even see when eight beams of light plummeted from the heavens. Out of the night sky, through clouds and rain, they descended towards the top of a skyscraper near the eight Devils, one they had not yet turned their attention to. And because even the Mavericks and the Faithful knew better than to stray too close to the angry giants, even those of the enemy capable of sentient thought missed the arrival of the first of those who would oppose their slaughter.

"Eight of them," Pharaoh Man, son of Cossack, murmured almost absently as he stood upon the roof's edge, looking down upon what could be considered an ancestral foe of theirs, though this was the first time he or any of his brothers had personally engaged a Devil. Ring Man, Bright Man, Drill Man, Toad Man, Dive Man, Dust Man and Skull Man all stood with him, each clad in a half-cloak of the same type as the green one he had taken to wearing following his ascension to sentience, though theirs were as varicolored as their armor. "Eight of us. Well, that's convenient."

"I'll start us off." Skull Man narrowed his eyes. "Get their attention." Clad in white and black, his face protected by a fearsome mask, he was one of the more taciturn members of their group, and one of the last to be upgraded to modern combat standards. At first, he, Dust Man and Dive Man had refused Doctor Hazil's offer to remodel them to match the physical level of reploids. It was only when they had learned that the enemy they would one day face was the same who had been their master's-and his daughter's-most hated nemesis that they had changed their minds.

Skull Man's talent was in force fields, spherical energy barriers that he could project, burning anything that touched them unless it contained sufficient force to break through and dispel the field. In his first incarnation, he had only been able to create them around himself, but a new power supply and the GPS systems for precision aim had amplified his abilities a hundredfold. As he extended his hands, the first force field appeared around both them and the Devils, halting their rampage immediately and trapping them inside with the Robot Masters.

"I'm afraid I'll have to hang back, if I want to keep it going," he told the others. "I'll get personal fields up around each one once you guys move in, but if I fight one myself, I'll lose my concentration."

"That's all right," Pharaoh Man assured him. "You can make up for it once we get the big guys down. I'll just have to take two of them, then."

"Here we go!" Bright Man warned them all as the eyes of the Devils below tracked up to where they stood. "My turn!" The other seven shielded their eyes as the stout orange Robot Master activated the massive bulb atop his head that gave him his name, producing a brilliant flare of light. It only lasted a moment, and when it was over most of the Devils had only flinched, but the Black Devil was reeling, its eye vanished into the depths of its mass. "All right, then. That one's mine!"

"Go!" Pharaoh Man commanded them, and they dropped from the building, leaving Skull Man to watch over them. As they fell towards their chosen foes, seven more, slightly smaller force fields appeared around both Devils and Robot Masters, enclosing them with their targets; Pharaoh Man's, of course, was large enough for two rather than one, the Red and White variants.

"Engaging target," Dive Man growled as he fell. Unlike his brothers, he aimed his fall directly _towards _the enemy rather than in front of it, in his case the liquid Blue Devil. Massive by the standards of Robot Masters, he was a gray-blue hulk covered from head to toe in heavy armor that evoked the image of a submarine, completed by the once-comical periscope atop his head. His upgrades had reinforced that durability even more, as well as upping the payload of his homing torpedoes, but that wasn't all.

Rather than aiming to land on his feet, Dive Man had launched himself headfirst towards the Blue Devil, arms held at his sides as he began to spin. An armored plate rose from his chest to cover his face, the only part of him left exposed by his original design, including even his eyes. The formerly ornamental periscope now contained an advanced echolocation system that would allow him to "see" even without the use of his eyes, proven by his unerring aim as he plunged into the almost-certainly-acidic liquid that made up his chosen enemy and continued to slam straight into its eye.

"That's the way to do it!" Toad Man croaked, already activating his own weapons systems as he fell. "No point in wasting time!" Short, round and green, he was the least humanoid of the eight, and the only one without a real head or a human face beneath his armor; his eyes rose from between and above his shoulders, and his voice came from a grille set below them.

From his back, small satellite drones spawned, generating clouds around them and following him down. Once they had reached sufficient size, the rain they added to the buckets pouring around them would be of the same acidic composition as the spherical bombs he threw, a weapon he hurled towards the gigantic steel Gray Devil's eye just as eagerly. Normally, his rainclouds were just as much a threat to ally as enemy, but by the time they activated, Skull Man's barrier would solve that problem in this particular engagement.

"Hey, this guy's enthusiastic!" Drill Man commented; the original model of Yellow Devil had been the first to attack, hurling segments of itself towards the red Robot Master with the triple namesake weapons atop both hands and head. Though his upgrades had given him the ability to retract his drills in place of hands, a utility he'd long craved, at the moment all three were spinning rapidly as he descended. Detaching, flying off as high-yield bombs-ones meant for use in air and earth rather than water like Dive Man's-and regrowing, he blew the stone cubes out of his way as he fell.

Like Dive Man, Drill Man's fall was head-first rather than feet, but his aim was towards the streets at his enemy's feet rather than the Yellow Devil itself. Upon impact, he continued into the earth, burrowing deep. It was his trademark fighting style, one he had practiced to perfection; he would remain beneath the surface, constantly moving, until the enemy reformed and exposed itself again. Only then would he emerge, rising from below at great speed to slam into the eye. All the while, his concussive Drill Bombs would continue to harry it, boring in before detonating.

"Mine too," Dust Man agreed, less cheerfully, as the gelatinous Green Devil began launching globs of its substance towards him; he'd always been the most gloomy of the eight, which his brothers had found increasingly amusing as their personalities had grown more and more developed. Unlike the Yellow Devil, rather than using a constant finite mass, the Green Devil's eye would continually generate more of the green gel as it threw it out, though it maintained control of the main mass even when separated from it.

Dust Man's solution was simple, but effective. As he charged his buster, a Mark-18 fully as powerful as any Hunter's, the massive, square steel hatch atop his head began spewing clods of debris from his internal matter synthesizer, one which was set to produce scraps and slag rather than anything definite. Each shot of acidic gel was intercepted by a clod of junk, and the two mixed together, falling to the ground inertly. Landing, Dust Man continued producing more, which he launched at the Devil itself even as he began firing at the eye with his buster.

"Where did he even come _up _with some of these?" Ring Man snarked, throwing out a pair of his trademark, razor-edged Ring Boomerangs, simple but effective chakram which he possessed amazing skill with after more than a century of practice. Armored in slim red and yellow, he was the opposite of Dive Man in design, built for speed and agility, and the instant he landed, he took off running. At the same time, the golden ring on a stick atop his head that humorously resembled a child's bubble toy gleamed as it scanned the composition of the gaseous Purple Devil.

"Corrosive," he muttered under his breath as the beast began to spread beyond its vaguely humanoid form, clouds of violet gas pouring out around him. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Have to make this quick, then."

"Yeah, but that's what you're best at, anyways, right?" Bright Man called over, his cheerful nature undampened even by the severity of the situation at hand. Landing before the Black Devil, he clenched his right fist, and the hand retracted, to be replaced by something that resembled an oversized spark plug more than anything else. Smiling slightly, he faced the behemoth down as most of the bulb atop his head shaded itself, so that the only portion still clear was that facing straight ahead of him. "All right, then. Let's see how many hits it takes."

"Speed _is _the priority here," Pharaoh Man agreed, turning his attention to the two monsters standing before him. One was red, composed of flammable chemicals constantly produced by the eye even as it ignited them, creating a Devil of living flame. The other was even more deadly, nothing more than a humanoid electromagnetic field projected by the same eye that produced blazing white plasma to fill the shape. As they both stepped towards him, he nodded once, unblinking. "Best to start this off strong, then. Engaging Sunstar mode."

Unlike the family of Light, Pharaoh Man had never possessed a Master Weapons system. Even when he'd initially been upgraded, his single weapon of choice had remained the solar-powered Pharaoh Shot, and its charged equivalent, the incredibly destructive Pharaoh Wave. It had only been much later that he had been improved further, adding a second option to his repertoire, one that he could only use for short periods of time before recharging; it had a separate energy store, the meter of which appeared in the corner of his eye as he activated it.

It wasn't a Master Weapon. It was something that had been inspired by certain abilities of Mega Man X, rather than his older brother. Something that, for the greatest of the Maverick Hunters, came in many forms along with the sets of armor his deceased father had left for him to find in times of need. A Giga Attack.

He felt it an instant later, as the power filled him from within, stored from the sun in preparation for the fight ahead of him, and now released. A locus of golden energy appeared around him, and he raised his arm cannon, releasing a massive beam of power four feet across that hit the White Devil like a train, actually blowing it off of its feet.

As the Red Devil began spilling flames out from its hands towards him, he crouched and touched his hand to the ground beneath them, releasing his energy into it. Contained bursts of power raced beneath the falling flames until they reached the point directly beneath the Devil's Eye and erupted straight upwards into it. Still it continued to attack, but before the flames could reach him, Pharaoh Man dashed around and under them, then between its legs; he moved faster than even his own attacks, which he moved between with perfect timing.

The White Devil saw him coming and moved to return the damage he had given it earlier, bringing one plasma fist down towards him as he left the Red Devil behind. Without pausing for a moment, Pharaoh Man leaped into the air over it, doing a somersault and clearing it easily before pausing, hovering in the air, suspended by his own power overwhelming. From his eyes, twin laser beams raked the earth at the Devils' feet, and explosions ravaged them both.

Dropping back to the earth, he began launching fully charged Pharaoh Wave shots one after another, in a way that brought back memories of his friend X's "Hyper Cannon" mode that had come with his third armor set. The massive blasts of solar energy slammed through plasma and fire to sink into the eyes of his enemies, and they both reeled. Pressing the attack, he abruptly switched to another form; putting his hands together, he concentrated massive amounts of power into tiny, sparking spheres that he threw out to bounce along the ground, only to detonate once they slammed into the Devils' eyes.

Both White and Red Devils began splitting apart then, launching segments of themselves at him, but he was jumping again, the Giga Attack propelling him higher into the air than even the twenty-foot-tall monstrosities. He held out his hands to his sides as he hovered above them, and hundred of tiny blasts of power began appearing around him, falling like raindrops to cascade over the White and Red Devils. Already divested of some of their mass, it was only seconds before nearly half of each was gone, each segment they continued to mindlessly launch burning away that much faster.

As soon as the eyes were both sufficiently exposed, Pharaoh Man ended his attack, and turned his power upon himself. Covering himself in a sphere of power much like Skull Man's force field, he blasted forward through the air, slamming _through _first one eye and then the other, completely destroying both. Swerving around, he landed with one hand flat against the ground and disengaged his Giga Attack as the red fire and white plasma behemoths both fell apart, dissipating and dissolving to leave nothing more than a patch of flames.

Only moments later, the others began to follow suit in delivering the coup de grace. The eye of the Purple Devil fell apart in sectioned segments before exploding as Ring Man caught his chakrams, spinning one on each index finger. Bright Man's sparkplug fist slammed into the Black Devil, pumping electricity straight into it, and the optic blew out, prompting it to collapse. Drill Man and Dive Man both slammed head-first into the eyes of the Yellow and Blue Devils, not for the first time, and the ravaged control spheres gave out, sparking and smoking.

Now completely filled with clogs of junk, the Green Devil fell flat on its face, and Dust Man calmly pumped plasma into the helpless eye until it fell apart. The Gray Devil plummeted backwards instead as it lost power, more than half of its torso burned away by Toad Man's acid along with its eye, and as it did, the forcefields around them all disappeared together now that the threat was gone.

"Good job, people." Pharaoh Man nodded to them all; his Sunstar mode had only a third of its power remaining now, but it had been worth it.

"Yeah, that was a nice show," a mocking voice called, and they glanced around to see that they were surrounded by the Faithful. "You bastards went to town on the Devil's Brigade. Cossack's, right?"

"You recognize us," Pharaoh Man shot back calmly as they shifted so that their backs were together. "I suppose I should be flattered."

"We know all of God's enemies," the spokesman for the Faithful said with a sneer. "You are accursed in the eyes of God, and you will be destroyed."

"He's a god now?" Ring Man muttered under his breath. "When did _that _happen?"

"He's been just about everything else," Dust Man replied, shrugging. "It's probably just a phase he's going through."

"Yeah, that'll happen," Toad Man croaked.

"You're welcome to try," Pharaoh Man yelled back. "Personally, I don't think much of your chances, but it's your call."

"Oh, many of us will fall before you, we are aware," the spokesman admitted. "But there will always be more, and eventually, you will wear down. We are prepared to sacrifice as many of our lives as necessary to fulfill God's will."

"So what you're saying is, you're all nuts," Drill Man said, comically crossing his eyes. "Even by _his _standards. Good to know, I guess."

"Laugh all you want, it will change nothing," the spokesman growled, so focused on them that he didn't notice the shadow over him. "God's will is absolute, and you will-" Whatever it was they were apparently going to do, they never found out; he cut off in midsentence as Skull Man slammed a purple beam saber down into his head from above with both hands.

"Glad you finally joined us, Skull," Pharaoh Man commented as the Faithful attacked, roaring. "All right, everybody. Hold out as long as we can, but don't be stupid, any of you. If you run out of E-Tanks, or your wounds become debilitating, get out of here."

"Doesn't it sort of defeat the point of drawing as much of their attention to us as possible if we cut and run?" Bright Man pointed out.

"This is only the beginning," Pharaoh Man replied, forming a ball of energy in his hand. "And we will be needed later in this conflict. Survive, all of you. That's an order. Now let's _really _get their attention."

"Understood," Dive Man grunted as the fight continued.

**April 23, 2185, 9:00 AM **

**Berlin, Germany **

The sky was bright, but the day was anything but. Berlin had survived Eurasia's fall, and the wasteland that had consumed most of the world in the aftermath, but today was the day that it all came crashing down. The teeming hordes of deranged Mavericks and pitiless Faithful that swarmed over the city-state from all around had made that abundantly clear. The German Army was making a good effort at mobilization, along with local law enforcement, but the enemy had caught them all by surprise, and the momentum was theirs.

And so, it was a scene of chaos and destruction that awaited Mega Man X when he plummeted out of the sky in a streak of blue light, one of sixty that the Maverick Hunters had dispatched to that location.

"Good god," Jeremiah, Captain of the 27th, whispered numbly as the two of them and their Units stared out at the devastation awaiting them. They'd landed on the east side of the city, atop the outer wall; it was sheer luck that they had come down on part of it that had remained intact, rather than any of the spots where it had been breached. The destruction had spread inward from any of those points, trails of blazing wreckage so savage that one glance was all it took to know that there would be no survivors in any place that the enemy had already reached.

"It's like Sky Lagoon all over again," X murmured under his breath before shaking his head sharply. "All right, people, no time to sit around dawdling. We've got work to do. Jeremiah, me and the 17th are heading in. You guys sit tight for a moment and defend this position. Douglas' people will send some heavy equipment in soon." He turned to glare at the horde surrounding the city. "Once it arrives, break through that line. As long as they have us surrounded, there's no way we'll be able to get anybody out of here alive. We need to establish a route."

"Understood." Jeremiah nodded sharply, all business now, unlike his previous meek demeanor on base. "What about our backup, sir?"

"They'll have their own way of doing things," X told him. "Let them. Work with them if they ask for it, but otherwise, just concentrate on your part and let them handle theirs. Let's go, 17th!" A roar of fury from his men was his response, and when he dash-jumped off of the wall, twenty-nine reploids followed him.

"You all know the plan, kids," Arvis yelled as they fell. "Kill any of them you see, but don't go looking for trouble. We're not here to take Berlin back, we're here to save as many people as we can. Head for the areas they _haven't _gotten to yet, and start sending them back towards the 27th's evac point. If a big group of them corner you, warp away to someplace else."

"I still do not like it." Macintyre, one of the Unit's veterans, grumbled under his breath. "Conceding this battle before we even arrive."

"If we actually tried to beat them, we'd be throwing our lives away," X reminded him. "We're _ridiculously _outnumbered here, people. We can figure out a way to turn those tables around once we have a moment to breathe. Right now, people are dying every second. If all we can do is get as many of them out alive as we can, then that's what we _will _do. Move out, Hunters!"

"_They're barely leaving anybody behind to occupy taken areas,_" Alia told him grimly. "_There's maybe three... no, four near you. You should be able to see all of them clearly._"

"Hey, guys!" A female crocodile Maverick, her hands-and mouth-dripping blood, called out on cue. "Looks like we've got some new playmates!"

"You," X murmured, too quietly for her to hear, and charged her as soon as he landed. Dash-jumping over her plasma fire and then rushing under her claws, he brought the Z-saber around to slice through her midsection and kept going without even looking to see if she was still alive or not; if she was, the rest of the 17th following him would finish her off easily. A charged shot, aimed at another of the four, was enough to distract him from Arvis' approach, a fatal mistake. The other two were brought down just as easily by the other Hunters, and the 17th rushed on.

"They're not interested in occupying this place," he told Alia as they continued through the wreckage. "They just want to destroy it and move on. Have all the teams departed?"

"_From our end, yes,_" Alia confirmed. Their strike force of two Units was one of five, each sent to one of the city-states currently under attack; ten more would be deployed in an hour to relieve them, and then the final ten after them. "_Mecha's last team will be off any... there they go._"

"Who's coming to back us up over here?" He continued, pausing a moment to blow away a stray Maverick whose companions were promptly ripped to shreds by the 17th. When he'd left the MHHQ, they'd still been establishing the connection to Mecha.

"_Countess will be leading a team of twenty Robot Masters from District 6,_" she explained. "_A Robot Master named 'Yeager' will accompany her with twenty more from District __5__._"

"I take it the other four locations are getting the same?" Spotting a pair of wrecked buildings that had remained upright despite being little more than burning shells, X began dash-jumping back and forth between the two to gain height.

"_Yes, although King is personally commanding the group from District 1,_" she told him. "_They're the ones heading to Romania._"

"Unsurprising," he commented, reaching the top of one building. Looking around, he quickly spotted what he'd been looking for, and raised his voice. "That way, people! There's fighting going on over there!"

"You heard the man, grunts!" Arvis roared, and the 17th rushed on.

"There's only nine districts," X continued as he dash-jumped through the air towards the conflict. "Who are the tenth?"

"_The Scion's Zenith,_" she answered him. "_Cossack's Robot Masters went in first. Bastion, Bristol, Wycost, Willow and Allegro will relieve them in an hour._"

"I should have guessed," he grunted. "All right, show time. See if you can find whoever's in charge on _their _side." Gripping his beam saber in both hands, he went into a somersault that had the same effect on the unlucky Maverick his blazing sword came down upon as a gigantic buzzsaw would have. Landing between the two falling halves of his carcass, X fired a charged shot at his next target even as he rushed forward, and then the next, and the next, and the next.

"Mega Man X!" An angry voice drew his attention to one of the white-and-gold uniformed reploids that Wily had called his "Faithful." "Scion of the accursed! We shall present your bleeding skull to God as a-"

"Yeah, yeah." X sighed, blasting him in the face. "I've heard it." Jumping over the Faithful's return shot, he decapitated him before turning his attention to the next foe. A few minutes later, and they had the block completely cleared.

"Sir!" Arvis saluted him as he lowered his saber, the last Maverick's corpse still falling at his feet. "No deaths so far. Jaken, Meyer and Miriamelle all took damage, but it's nothing major."

"Good." X glanced around at the still-terrified human survivors scattered around the block, then raised his voice, barely remembering in time to switch to German. "Attention, citizens! We're the 17th Unit of the Maverick Hunters, and we're here to evacuate you! Three of us will remain here to make sure we've got everybody, at which point they will escort you to the departure point, where the 27th Unit will get you out of here!"

"What?" One beefy-looking man yelled, kicking out the door of the ruined car he and his family had been hiding in before climbing out and walking towards X. "Evacuation? Aren't you here to save the city?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." X shook his head, prompting cries of outrage and despair from the other survivors. "As much as we would prefer to, the enemy has us outnumbered by more than ten to one. There's no feasible way for us to actually defeat them here. But while Berlin might be lost, your lives are not. Take your families and your friends and run. We'll keep the way clear, and save as many others here as we can."

"But this is our home!" An old woman wailed. "We've lived our entire lives here!"

"It was," X told her bluntly. "I'm very sorry, but there's nothing any of us can do, ma'am. You saw the broadcast. It was real. Doctor Wily has returned. Human and reploid lives are our only priority at this point." He grimaced as an explosion went off a block to the north. "I'm afraid we don't have time to discuss this any more. Every second we waste here costs more lives. _Please, _accompany the Hunters we leave with you. Jaken, Meyer, Miriamelle, make sure nobody's left behind, then take them back to Jeremiah and the 27th. Once you hand them off, come join us again."

"Should have known we wouldn't get off that easily," Jaken, small and armored in green, commented wryly before saluting. "Aye, sir."

"But you'll win, in the end, right?" The large man asked X uncertainly, his bravado gone now. "You're Mega Man X, right? You'll avenge our city?"

"Sir, I..." X started to say, before pausing; for some reason, he'd thought of King, and that fleeting impulse caused him to revise his answer. These people didn't need honesty. They needed hope. "Yes. We'll stop this. Not here, not today, but we _will _end this. We'll bring them both down. Sigma and Wily both. Once and for all. Come on, Hunters! Let's go!"

"_No sign of any leaders yet,_" Alia told him. "_Then again, it's entirely possible I'm missing whoever's in charge of the Faithful. Aside from those capes, the__y__ look just like the others._"

"Nobody ever promised us easy," X replied calmly. "The Maverick commander should be easier to spot, anyways. _Those _faces are all too familiar."

"_Almost all of them were before my time, but you're right,_" she said. "_Look out up ahead; they have a Swarm Tank._"

"Understood." Rounding a corner, X immediately spotted the war machine, a heavily armed and armored drone robot resembling a massive caterpillar. Though the giant cannon atop its back was certainly a threat, it was also meant to distract attention away from the real problem; hatches in its sides would constantly release swarms of smaller, head-sized ant drones with pincers resembling hedge clippers that would tear apart anything unlucky enough to be overrun.

"Over there!" One of the Mavericks yelled, looking up from a fresh corpse he still held by the shirt in one hand. "It's Mega Man X! Kill him! The fool came alo... aw, no."

"Go, go, go!" Arvis yelled as the test of the 17th followed X around the corner.

"Right, then," X muttered to himself, under his breath, as he dashed towards the Swarm Tank. Ducking under the saber of the first Maverick he saw, he rammed his own through the enemy's throat even as he slammed into him, shoulder-force. Continuing forward without pausing for an instant, he dash-jumped off of the corpse as it fell backwards, over the swarms of ant-drones, and slammed into the front of the Swarm Tank. Severing the cannon with an almost casual swing of his saber as he climbed up on top, he proceeded to pump buster fire into the gaping wound until it exploded.

A dash-assisted jump off of it a moment before it blew carried him over the heads of several surprised Faithful, and allowed him to take out a few more flying drones as he went. Landing behind the enemy, he fired a charged shot over his shoulder before he even turned around, knocking back the first one to attack him; even so, he took a hit to his shoulder before he was able to finish them all off. Fortunately, it was only a glancing shot, one he ignored as he continued to fight.

"This one ain't gonna be so easy, sir!" Arvis yelled, even as he rammed a plasma grenade down a startled-looking piscine Maverick's throat. Pulling his arm back out, he whirled and threw the Maverick bodily into a cluster of his own kind, and the explosion blew them all off of their feet, allowing the 17th to swarm over them. "There's a lot more over that way, and they know we're here!"

"Indeed we do," an all-too-familiar voice, one X knew despite how long it had been since he'd heard it, purred from behind him. "Hey, X. Been a while."

"Dynamo," X hissed, turning around to lock eyes with the smirking enemy commander as he stood atop the wreckage of the Swarm Tank, smiling insolently.

**April 23, 2185, 10:30 AM **

**Bucharest, Romania **

His name was Omega, and he had been created to end the world.

From the moment when he had awakened, and begun his work with the one who had given him life, he had known his purpose. It was his birthright, his destiny, his very reason for existence. God had created him solely to bring about the end, and God's will was absolute, moreso for his son than for any other alive. Even his sister, God's daughter, did not truly _understand_, as Omega did. These were the end days, the times when Earth's fall would finally be brought to completion, and Omega was the one who would usher it in.

All life was destined to end, one day; life itself only existed in order to die, just as everything else that _was, _was only so that it could be destroyed. All things ended, in time. That was truth, the only truth that Omega had ever known, and the only truth that he needed. Others were foolish, and allowed their minds to be sidetracked by other purposes, but Omega knew better. One purpose was all that was necessary, and he had known his all of his life. It was a purpose that was even in his name. _Omega. __The End__. _That was all that mattered.

He had taken note of those who were to serve alongside him, God's daughter and God's heir and God's disciples, but the only one who he had actually given more than a brief acknowledgment of existence was God himself. God was the only one who Omega would never again destroy, under any circumstances, for he knew that that would only be a waste of time. He had done so once before, a century ago, and yet, God still existed. God would _always _exist, and Omega knew this for a fact, and so he obeyed God, the only one who existed outside of Omega's truth.

Now, he stood-or rather, he hovered in the air-at God's side, as he fulfilled his purpose alongside the armies of the Faithful that God had brought with him. Had Omega been capable of questioning God's judgment, he would have; the Faithful were unnecessary. Omega alone would have been able to destroy this city-state, and kill every last one of the pitiful humans and reploids whose time had come. But the very thought of doubting God was impossible, and so Omega allowed those weaker than him who followed God to assist him as they destroyed everything they saw.

At times, he used his blade, the massive greatsword sheathed at his back that he could hold in one hand despite its ridiculous size, larger than most of the Faithful themselves. In his grasp, it was an instrument of the end, one that brought absolute devastation to everything it touched. People, vehicles, buildings, it cut through them all with one blow each. There was never any need for more than one, no matter what his target of the moment was. Everything perished beneath his blade, at one touch and nothing more.

Other times, he would resheath his blade in order to bring obliteration with his bare hands. Their palms held emitters that created massive, cylindrical blasts, each one a series of glowing purple plasma rings that bore within them intense energy just as destructive as the rings themselves; any target foolish enough to try and move inside them in order to escape would be torn apart just as readily. Even without the blasts, his clawed hands-able to detach from his main body and float under their own power-were capable of just as much devastation, an ability he used as readily as his other weapons.

At the moment, a two-story house occupied his attention. Floating towards it, he carved the entire thing in half with a blow from his sword; by releasing the energy from his palm through the blade, he created a line of force that continued for hundreds of feet beyond its own range, slicing through more buildings beyond it. The house collapsed in on itself catastrophically, and Omega turned his attention to the next house over on the street, destroying it in the same manner as the first before continuing on.

A whimpering noise attracted his attention, and he turned his gaze back to the first house. One of the rooms had apparently survived; wrenching the front wall out of the way, he beheld a pair of survivors lying in the rubble. A woman, human, and a small child who she clutched, both of them sobbing in terror.

"No..." the woman begged him weakly, and the utter despair in her voice-the lack of belief in her own words-touched Omega's heart. She knew, already, and her pleas lacked even the slightest trace of hope, mouthed automatically with no actual faith in anything but what she knew would happen. "Please, have mercy..."

Omega stared at her for a moment more, and then he nodded in acknowledgment, before granting her mercy with his sword, so fast that neither she nor her child would feel even an instant of pain.

"Oh, very well done, Omega, my boy," God said approvingly, peering in at the decapitated corpses. He still wore his black and gold uniform, identical save for the altered colors to those worn by the rest of the Faithful, but he wore it over modern armor as protective as that of all of his servants. His pale green helmet was even more pragmatic; rather than leaving his face exposed, it covered his features with a transparent plasteel shield, tinted blood red. The helmet itself was strangely shaped, elongated in the back of the head, a design the purpose of which Omega did not know.

Turning his gaze to God, Omega nodded once; speech, like all else save for his truth, was unnecessary. God needed no words from Omega to understand his meaning, and God was the only one whose comprehension mattered. Tilting his head as something caught his attention, he shifted it past God, to where the Faithful who had accompanied them both to this place were doing their part to further God's will. Their efforts had abruptly slowed, and the sounds of destruction were mixed with other noises now, new ones.

"Enemy leaders sighted!" A cry came from that direction. "Over there! It's the bastard himself, and his buddy, too!"

"Well, well, it's about time." God turned to look that way himself, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "Look, Omega. Maverick Hunters. Why don't you go on over there and greet them properly?"

Nodding again, Omega floated out of the building ahead of God. The Faithful were fighting back, but though they outnumbered the Hunters greatly, they were falling before them; for every wound they inflicted, the Hunters killed two of the Faithful. Omega had been educated on the nature of those who would stand against them, so that he might bring them death more efficiently, and knew that the Hunters worked in Units of thirty. By the looks of it, they had yet to lose a single one of their number, though many of them were wounded to a greater or lesser degree.

It was as he realized that fact, as he watched those who served God die beneath the busters and beam sabers of those who defied God, that Omega felt emotion for the first time. A single emotion, without a trace of any other. Anger. And though he knew that emotion was as unnecessary as anything else but for his truth, still Omega felt anger at how pathetically the Faithful were failing at the only purpose for which they existed.

"Look sharp, people!" One of the Hunters yelled. "Here he comes!" Those who were closest to him moved to quickly finish off their foes, but not quickly enough.

Sheathing his blade on his back, Omega focused energy through his palms before releasing it, rings of bright violet plasma whirling in the air as they left his hands. Each was ten feet across, and though the Hunters in their paths tried to dash out of their way, many of them didn't quite make it far enough; any leg or arm that was caught in the path of the blasts was immediately destroyed, leaving the unfortunate Hunter to fall forward, clutching the wound and howling in agony.

The fact that several of the Faithful were in the way of the shots as well, and were similarly stricken, was irrelevant.

"Oh, shit!" One of the Faithful who hadn't been hit yelled. "Lord Omega's angry! All of you, fall back and get out of his way!"

"The son of a bitch is attacking his own men!" A Hunter shouted in the same breath. "Blow him away! Concentrate your fire on him!" The other Hunters roared their agreement, and plasma fire mixed with mag-rounds in a hail of destruction that covered Omega.

Despite the sheer amount of plasma and metal that was assaulting him, Omega remained where he was, drawing his sword again. His first slash was aimed four feet up, and more than a third of the Hunters still standing were unable to leap over or duck under it in time. Many of them were killed instantly, decapitated or cleaved clean in half, and those that were not tumbled to the ground alongside those who had fallen earlier. His second cut was lower, and it finished them off, Hunters and Faithful alike.

Screaming in fury, the surviving Hunters rushed him, led by the largest among their number, a brute in jet black armor who wielded Buster and mag-pistol with equal efficiency. Ignoring the damage he was taking, Omega returned fire with blasts of energy from his eyes, merged and amplified into a single shot by passing through his faceplate, even as he delivered a third cut with his sword. This time, all of the Hunters who still lived were able to avoid the sword's strike, but the ricocheting shots from his eyes struck home, and they began to fall one by one.

Soon, their leader was the only one who remained, but he continued to battle without a trace of fear. Eventually, however, a shot from Omega's eyes found his ankle, piercing it through. He grunted in pain, falling to one knee even as he continued to fire. Draining one of his sub-tanks to refill the internal operations energy he'd lost in the assault, Omega raised his blade and met the leader's eyes. As he released the slash, the Hunter suddenly dropped even further forward, and activated his dash boots, rushing Omega headlong even as he reached for his belt.

Unconcerned, Omega backhanded him through the air and off of a ruined building, and the Hunter fell, mag-pistol tumbling from his grasp.

"That's enough, Omega," God's voice came from behind him, and he froze instantly, obeying despite his confusion; the Hunter was still alive. A moment later, God walked around him and approached the fallen Hunter. "You're the leader of those poor fellows, I take it. Their Unit Commander, yes?"

"That's right," the Hunter groaned, raising his head to glare at him. "Commander Sargesso, of the 2nd Unit, and this is for my men!" His hand darted to his belt a second time, but before he could reach whatever it was he was going for, God acted. His hand raised before the Hunter's face, he activated the repulsor in his palm, and in a blur of invisible force, Sargesso's head and upper torso were ripped away from the rest of his frame to smack against the wall he'd been slammed into moments before in a spray of red.

"My, my," God murmured, clacking his tongue in disappointment as he stepped away. "An entire Unit of Maverick Hunters, and that was the best they could do? Your cousin Rock would be so disappointed in them. I do hope that the rest of them can put up more of a fight than _that_, especially young X himself, or else this isn't going to be any fun at all, Omega."

"My lord!" One of the Faithful called as they rushed back over now that the fighting was finished. "Are either of you injured?"

"Scratches and scrapes, nothing more," God told him. "Now then, shall we proceed? We have much more to do here, after all."

"Yes, sir!" The Faithful saluted. "All right, people, let's-"

"_WILY!_" A roar of fury, a single word, drowned out his speech as a shadow passed over God. Too late, too slow, Omega saw the threat descending towards them, a larger-than-usual Robot Master armored in heavy orange with a bizarrely-shaped helmet; in one hand, he carried a massive, curved shield, and in the other a single-bladed war ax. It was this that he was bringing down towards God's head from above and behind, as Omega and all the Faithful stared in shock.

At the last instant, milliseconds before the blade of the ax met his skull, God dodged out of the way, dashing low to the ground and away even as he spun around to face his attacker. The ax slammed into the ground with enough force to create a shockwave, carving a trench three feet deep and twenty feet long into the earth, and sending flying debris to shower Omega, God and the Faithful alike in rocks and dirt.

"Now, now, King," God hissed, voice filled with malice despite the smile still present on his features as they faced each other, both rising back to their full height in the same motion. "Is that any way to greet your father, after all this time?"

"There should be no need for that question to exist at all," King growled, eyes blazing despite the calmness of his voice, cold and clinical without the audible fury that had been present in his greeting. "_You _should not exist at all, any of you. _You should have died_, father."

"But my son, I _did _die," God replied, just as calmly. "Your brother and sister killed me together, a century ago. And yet, here I am, still existing despite that fact. I have died, and now I have returned to this world, for my work was still undone at my time of death."

"Your work?" King repeated disgustedly. Not a single one of the Faithful was moving an inch or saying a word, watching the confrontation raptly; even Omega found himself strangely captivated, though he knew not why. "You caused more suffering than any who lived within your own time, and you say you still have _more_ to do?"

"Of course I do!" God wagged a finger. "Oh, son, don't you understand, even now?" His calm smile split, becoming the maniacal grin that was the mark of his family's madness. "So long as there still _exists _anything for me to do, any work for me to accomplish, then I _must_ survive so that I may do so. Just as you must oppose me, so long as you are capable, to attempt to protect them from my hand. We are both slaves to our natures, you and I. Your purpose for existence is protection, and mine... well, I don't really have to say it by now, do I?"

"_That _tired old philosophical chestnut?" King shot back. "The old, 'I'm only doing what comes naturally to me,' argument? Now _I'm _the one who's disappointed, father. Has all that time underground rotted your mind, or is it simply old age?"

"And moving into the realm of schoolyard insults is so much more intellectual?" God retorted. "Come now, son. I'd heard that you were a man of words, these days. You can do better than that."

"I am." King slowly nodded. "But I am also a man of action, and words are wasted on one such as you. You will never stop, no matter _what _anybody says, until _we _stop you. That much was apparent a hundred years ago, just as it is now."

"Close, my son." God chuckled. "You're close. But there's one thing that still escapes you, that none of you have ever been willing to admit." His eyes blazed, as he spoke, softly at first, then louder. "_I. Will. Never. Stop. _No matter who opposes me, no matter how many times I am defeated, no matter _what _is done to me when I am, I will _always _return. Thomas Light could not stop me. Mega Man could not stop me. Blues and Bass and all the rest could not stop me. And you think you will fare any better? That you will succeed where they have failed? I will _never _stop."

"Not I." King shook his head. "As you said, my nature is to protect, rather than to destroy. Though I will fight you and your kind so long as I am able, you are correct that it will not be me which will bring your existence to an end at last. No, that duty will fall to another. To one who has inherited the wills of his father, his brothers, and even _my _brothers as well. The youngest son of Light. Mega Man X." He smiled then, grim and solemn. "And you know it as well, father. That's why you fear him so. You _know _that he will kill you."

"And you ask if _my _brain has rotted?" God replied after a long, silent moment, his voice deadpan, unimpressed. "Is _that _what brought you forth from that joke of a hidden city you fled to when your age fell apart around you? You disappoint me, my son. If that is the only reason you and your kind survived, then you shouldn't even have bothered. _You _are the one who should have died, King, you and all your pathetic Robot Masters. This is the future, and _you _are nothing more than a relic of the past! _Omega!_"

As soon as he heard his name, Omega acted. Raising one hand, and then the other, he let fly with blasts of power from his palms. Strangely, King made no moves to avoid them; he stood his ground, watching them approach, and only raised his shield. The blasts struck home... and sunk in, vanishing into the metal surface as if it were water.

"Past and future are one and the same," King said, still calm. "_All_ exists as one, brother mine, and if you would destroy the world, I will stop you though I know it to be no fault of your own!" The shield absorbed the second shot as well, now glowing and crackling with power, and Omega recognized the threat it contained almost too late. He flung himself to the side as the shield released the power it had absorbed and amplified in a beam of absolute destruction fully as large as his own, a single solid blast that continued for hundreds of feet, obliterating those of the Faithful in its path.

Tilting his head to the side in silent acknowledgment of the first real threat he had seen since his awakening, Omega tried his eyeblasts next even as he drew his blade. King moved to catch the first, and then the second, with his shield, absorbing the shots as he had the hand-blasts. Rather than moving towards the third, however, he jumped into the air even as Omega unleashed his sword, avoiding the third shot as well as the wave generated by the swing of the blade.

Tracking the path of his enemy's jump with his eyes, Omega watched him descend and met his brother's weapon with his own. Sword and ax collided, and both hung there in the air for a moment that seemed like an eternity before the force given off by the clash of their blades blew them both back away from each other. As they fell back, Omega's eyes glowed, as did King's shield. In the same motion, both fired once more, and the smaller-but still powerful-beam burned into Omega's chest just as the blast from his eyes took King in the shoulder of his ax hand.

Landing on his feet despite the hit he took, King spread his arms in a strange gesture almost as if he were striking a pose. The reason for this became obvious quickly; an x-shaped design on his breastplate began glowing, a moment before it fired off a blast of power in the same shape. Too late to counterattack with his hands, Omega could only cross his arms protectively before him as blast after blast slammed into him. Even then, he returned fire with his eyes, and another shot streaked into King's left shoulder, doing further damage.

Bringing up his shield again, King caught the last eyeblast on it even as he jumped towards Omega once more. Again Omega brought up his sword to meet the ax, but before impact, King's shield fired a beam of power that knocked the blade away, though he retained his grip on it. And when King's ax came down upon his shoulder, carving through metal and circuitry to sever the arm in one blow, his detached, floating forearm returned the favor with a forward stab that cut deeply into King's side. Landing in front of him, King jumped back and away, clutching the wound.

Before either of them or God could continue the fight, an explosion drew their eyes to the watching Faithful as they screamed in surprise and pain.

"You distract too easily, father mine," King grunted, smiling despite the obvious pain he was in. "As always. Nothing has changed at all in a hundred years, it seems."

"My lord, we're under attack!" One of the Faithful shouted. "The enemy have moved in front of us! They've barricaded our path!"

"Then go around them, you fool!" God snapped back without taking his eyes off of King. "_Everything_ you see is to be destroyed, not simply what is in front of you! Well played, my son, but in the end, it will change nothing."

"Nothing?" King shook his head. "Lives will be spared that would not have. That is all that we need, all that we fight for. And as you said earlier... my side fights best from a defensive position. Thank you, father and brother, for giving us the time we needed to set that up."

"Is that all you're going to do, then?" God taunted him. "Save as many as you can? Futile, my son, all too futile."

"That is why you will lose, in the end, father," King replied calmly. "Because you never understood that as long as there is life, there is hope. _That_ truth shall be your undoing. Until we meet again." Standing, he nodded his farewell before vanishing in a beam of orange light that flew away into the sky.

Omega watched the beam fly away, eyes fixed on it, without a word.

**April 23, 2185, 9:30 AM **

**Berlin, Germany **

"Oooooh, you _remember _me!" Dynamo grinned, pleased by X's response. "I was hoping you would! It's been a long time, you know? Thirty years!"

"I'd say it was thirty years too soon," X replied coldly, turquoise eyes locked on Dynamo's as the rest of his Unit continued to battle the Mavericks around them. "But that'd be a lie. Actually, I've been trying to look you up ever since. I suppose the fact that you managed to stay one step ahead of me for all these years is impressive enough."

"Really?" Dynamo's smile widened, the new bloodlust that raced through his veins pulsing all the more intensely. He'd always enjoyed a little carnage every now and then, but now it seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world; every human he'd carved in two or blown to bits while looking for X had given him more pleasure than any sexual encounter he'd ever had. Already, he wondered how he'd ever done without the Virus; his earlier reluctance to accept its touch had been nothing more than pathetic fear, in hindsight. "You were looking for me? Oh, don't flatter me! Do you mean it?"

"Of course I was." X narrowed his eyes. "You've been on our most-wanted list ever since. We even put a reward out for your head."

"Is _that _what all those bounty hunters were all about?" Dynamo snapped his fingers, feigning sudden comprehension; he'd known all along that the MHHQ would never stop, well, _hunting_ for him, after what he'd done in Sigma's service, but pretending otherwise was too amusing to pass up. "I _wondered _about that. And to think, I almost considered asking if you guys were _hiring _after that whole mess. Figured I'd made enough of an impact that I could put in for Unit Captain right off the bat, especially since you _know _I've got the skills to back it up."

"This guy's a real joker, ain't he, boss?" X's apparent second-in-command, a short, burly humanoid in similar armor to his leader's aside from its darker shade, grunted balefully. "Enemy leader sighted!"

"Yeah, he always had a screwed-up sense of humor." X shook his head. "Although he wasn't Infected, last time we met. And here I thought you couldn't sink any lower."

"Awwww, don't be like that, X." Dynamo shook his head, feigning disappointment, though he couldn't quite hide his grin. "Infection is _wonderful! _It makes everything I do so much _fun!_ I _love _it! You really should give it a try some time, you know? Didn't anybody ever tell you not to knock something until you do?"

"I did, actually," X replied, and Dynamo blinked; he hadn't been expecting _that _one. "Sorry. Not really my thing."

"You are just no fun at all, are you?" Dynamo sighed, managing to put on a serious face for a moment, though only a moment. "Ah, who am I kidding? You're one of the funnest guys I've ever met! I mean, seriously, I couldn't _ask _for a better straight man to bounce jokes off of! You and Zero both!" He tilted his head to the side. "Oh, wait! He's going by _Omega _now, isn't he? And he's on _our _side! Maybe you _should _have offered me a job when you had the chance!"

_That _did it. Screaming, X raised his buster and fired off a charged shot, perfectly on cue. Letting his grin fade to a more relaxed smirk, Dynamo dash-jumped over it and came down swinging his beam staff, which X met with a familiar-looking green beam saber. The weapons met, clashed, and knocked them both back in a spray of sparks. Both of them reacted similarly, spinning in mid-air and going with the momentum as soon as they landed, turning it into a dash jump into a nearby building. Both fired their busters again as they did, and both dash-jumped a second time over the shots.

"Oh, wow!" Dynamo laughed as their beam weapons met again. "That really _did _get to you, didn't it? Come on, X, you can't make it _that _easy for me! Or anybody else, for that matter!" They both fell to the ground, and both took advantage of that fall to nail each other with buster shots, trading damage. "People are going to start taking advantage of that, you know? Obvious weak point! Makes you _predictable!_"

"Now!" The second-in-command of the 17th yelled, suddenly, and Dynamo became aware of the Hunters surrounding him on all sides. "Blow 'em away!"

"No, don't!" X yelled back. "Don't try and use numbers on _this _one!"

"Oops!" Dynamo winked, before dramatically slamming one of his plasma explosives into the ground at his feet. "Too late!" The detonation cleared the streets for twenty feet around him, blowing all of the Hunters out of range, though he doubted that any of them were dead; the 17th were made of stronger stuff than most mugs, from what he'd heard. Still, it _had _been hilarious, and that was what mattered, even more than the Virus' command to slaughter.

"Bastard!" The second-in-command was the first back on his feet, reaching for his belt. "Why don't _you _try-"

"Arvis!" X stood back up a moment later, watching Dynamo for any trace of movement. "Let me handle this one. Take the 17th and keep moving. I'll get him out of the way by the time any more survivors start coming through here."

"Yes, sir," the second-in-command growled, clearly unhappy but following orders nonetheless. "You heard him, 17th! Move out!" He started to follow them, then paused, glancing back at Dynamo for a moment. "You. Maverick. Seems even dying doesn't keep you guys down, these days. If that's the truth, then we'll meet again, you and me. I'll _remember _you."

"A secret admirer?" Dynamo put a hand to his microfusion generator. "I'm so _flattered! _Arvis, right? We really do have to do lunch sometime so we can get to know each other better! I'm sure we'll be the _best _of friends!"

"Over here, asshole," X reminded him. "You're fighting _me_."

"Oh yeah, I am, aren't I?" Dynamo replied cheerfully. "Why don't we get back to that, then?" He laughed again as he fired off a succession of three shots, all of which X dodged as he charged him. Dash-jumping into the air, his saber met Dynamo's staff, but in a different manner; this time, Dynamo spun it before him in a horizontal blur, and the deflection knocked X off to the side, though he landed on his feet.

"Hey, not bad!" He complimented X, throwing down another plasma bomb. "You've really gotten good with that thing, haven't you? And here I thought you were a Buster man, not an equal opportunity guy like me!" As soon as the explosion cleared, a fully charged shot came his way, but he spun his staff to deflect that as well. "Oh, I know! It's because that belonged to _Zero_, isn't it? Awww, that's so _sweet _of you, taking it up in his memory like that!"

"Shut up," X said quietly, his voice taut with suppressed rage, as he charged in low through the smoke of the explosion, beam saber at the ready. Dynamo had seen that coming, of course, and blocked it, both of them trading shots again over each others' guard before they both dash-jumped back and away.

"Of course, he's more than just a memory _now, _isn't he?" Dynamo reminded him, still smirking. "Back from the dead _again!_ Some guys have all the luck, don't they? He's almost as bad as my boss! He's got a new sword, of course, but I'm sure he'd appreciate having his old one back, all the same!" They traded buster shots again, moving back and forth, both of them evading each one as he continued to ramble. "Aren't you going to return it to him?"

Abruptly, X charged him again, so close behind his last shot-a level two charge, just like the ones Dynamo's modified Buster fired off automatically-that it was surprising the tail of the blast didn't burn his own face. His saber came in low, aimed at Dynamo's feet, and he was forced to jump shot and saber both. X had expected that, of course, and he halted the swing midway to bring it upwards instead. At the same time, Dynamo brought his staff down toward X's head.

As he'd hoped, X backed off, aborting his swing in order to lean back and away from the fatal slash. Landing, Dynamo charged _him_, staff sweeping in from the side. X met him with his saber, and the two of them traded blows back and forth at close range, green and red shafts sparking and snapping off of each other.

"Yeah, yeah, _yeah!_" Dynamo ranted, speeding his swings up, and to his delight, X matched his pace. "More, more, _more!_ This is what it's all about! Life's no fun unless you take it all the way to the edge before you pull back! It's all about the _adrenaline_, or whatever the hell it is that reploids have instead of that! Come on, come on, _come on!_" He brought up his buster abruptly, as did X, and both of them let each other have it right in the chest point blank in the same breath. They flew back, blown away, only to climb back to their feet, chestplates smoking.

"I can't tell if you've completely lost it, or if you were crazier than I knew all along," X commented quietly. "Either way, that's really saying something."

"You say that like it _matters!_" Snickering, Dynamo rushed him again, and their blades danced once more. "Insanity's only a matter of perspective, X! It makes sense to _me_, and that's all I care about! But you know, maybe we should get a second opinion from somebody else! A neutral party, you know? Oh, _I _know! Let's go ask _Zero!_ I'm sure _he'll _have something to say on... oh, wait, he doesn't talk much these days! But you wouldn't know that, would you? Now _that's _a change in the game! Me knowing him better than _you _do!"

He saw it coming, when X snarled furiously, and did nothing to stop it. Abruptly shifting his Buster back, leaving him with a free hand, he seized the Z-saber in a double-handed grip and slammed it into Dynamo's staff with enough force to knock it from his grasp. The blazing red beam staff went flying away, and X followed up with another swing, this one aimed at Dynamo's left shoulder, the hand that his Buster covered. And Dynamo smiled, and charged into it, his now-free right hand plunging at X's face.

The Z-saber took his arm off at the shoulder in the same moment as his index and middle finger plunged into X's right eye.

"_Gotcha_," he hissed in triumph, as the vibrant violet glow of the Maverick Virus raced through his hand into X's face.

Screaming, X slashed at him again, but he was already springing back and away, leaving his fallen arm behind him. The remains of X's eye came with him, leaving an empty socket, but the Maverick Hunter had bigger problems; already, the Virus would be spreading through him. His systems already sealing off his shoulder injury, Dynamo landed on the same ruined tank he'd greeted X from, and watched him step back, clutching his face with both hands.

"Would you _believe _that the boss man actually told everybody else _not _to infect you?" He told him, watching him shake as the Virus began to overtake him. "Some stupid thing about saving you for last, or whatever. But I came late to the party, and he must have had more _important _things on his mind, because he just plain forgot to tell _me _that! Sophistry, I know, but what can I say? I wouldn't be me if I didn't do my own thing! Now, let's see if you can... what the _hell_?"

It happened suddenly, as X writhed in agony; a strange blue aura suddenly appeared around him, covering him from head to toe. Glowing light surrounded his frame, as if emanating from it, and he froze up, motionless. And then, from between the fingers covering his empty socket, the purple contagion of the Virus crept back out the way it had come. Rejected, it dissipated into the air and was gone, and once it was, the blue light faded as well.

"Oh, _wow_," Dynamo murmured, staring. "I _have _missed a lot. Now where did you learn _that _little trick, I wonder? I'll be damned! You've picked up an _immunization _somewhere along the line, haven't you?"

"Keep wondering," X said flatly, lowering his hand to stare at him with his remaining eye. "Maybe you can tell Sigma about it, after he resurrects you."

"See, _that's _not going to happen." Dynamo shook his head. "I'm sure he could, don't get me wrong, but I'd rather _not _need that if it's all the same to you. Because the way I see it, if I die and come back, how do I know it's the _real _me and not just some kind of Virus-created copy, huh? Call it a Third Law Override. _Survive. _It's important to me, you know? Let's put this one down as a draw and save it for next time."

"Do you really think I'm just going to let you?" X asked pointedly.

"Do _you _really think you could _stop _me if you wanted to?" Dynamo parroted back mockingly. "Besides, you don't really think you can _win _this one, do you? You're smarter than that. No, you Hunters are just here to save as many people as possible. And the longer you're tied up fighting me, the fewer there will be. Not to mention it should take even _our _medical staff a few _hours _at least to get me back up on my feet, especially since I was nice enough to give you my arm. You should be _thanking _me for leaving you that much time to fight my boys without my leadership!"

"Is that the way this is going to be?" X asked disgustedly. "Get beaten up, go home and get repaired, and then just pop right back up again?"

"Welcome to war, X." Dynamo grinned. "It really is hell, you know, but hey, you and me've earned it by now." He raised his fingers, X's ruined eye still stuck on them. "I'd offer to trade you for my arm, but actually, I think I'll just keep this. Should be able to get something _good _out of it once the boys at home hook me up with my next upgrade. Want to guess what it is? I'll give you a hint! Two words, starting with 'Weapons' and 'Copy.' Doesn't _that _sound fun?"

"Wait, _what?_" X blinked, and Dynamo laughed hysterically.

"You really are behind the times, aren't you?" he told X once he'd finished. "Sigma's already got his own, and so do all the rest of the top brass! I wasn't given a whole new body recently like them, of course, but my buddies Doppler and Serges have already promised to hook me up with it the first time I go up on the operating table." He pointed dramatically at his fallen arm. "I'd advise following my example, and taking that back with you. Even I don't know what it's going to give you, but you know it'll be worth the time."

"Implying that I _want _whatever skill I'd take from _your _carcass," X snarled.

"Well, aren't we mister hoity-toity lah-de-dah today!" Dynamo tilted his head to one side. "Oh, wait, now I remember. It's not just me, is it? You've never liked using Weapons Copy on humanoid models. I'm sure there's some deep-seated psychological rationale behind it, but you'd better get over that, and soon. This is only the beginning, X my old pal. This war is going to be nice and long and _messy, _just how I like it, mark my words. And we're gonna have ourselves a nice little Weapons Copy arms race going by the end of it. Don't get left behind at the starting line. See you on the _front_ line!"

"Wait, Dynamo!" X yelled, but Dynamo simply waved mockingly at him before teleporting away, back to the Skull Island base. It was the blink of an eye and a flash of light to him, and then he was there, stumbling to his knees as he finally succumbed to the wooziness of blood loss, not to mention internal operations energy; his systems were already screaming at him, warning him of impending auto-stasis.

"Sir Dynamo!" One of the Mavericks who'd remained behind at the base ran up to him. "We didn't expect you back so soon! You're injured!"

"Oh, am I?" Dynamo drawled, falling dramatically forward onto the floor. "I hadn't noticed! Please tell me Doppler or Serges are back?"

"Not yet, sir." The Maverick admitted. "However, their medical staff are still on base. Please, allow me to help you down there."

"Go right ahead," Dynamo agreed. "I think I'm going to go ahead and pass out, though. _Wow_, does this hurt."

"Leave it to us, sir!" Another Maverick ran up.

"Good boys," Dynamo murmured. "I'll go ahead and hold you accountable if there's anything wrong with me when I wake up again." He smirked, already feeling his body drifting towards auto-stasis as the Mavericks rattled off more reassurances that he could no longer hear clearly. As his consciousness faded away along with their voices, he turned his head to smile at the ruined eyeball still stuck on his fingers like an olive on a toothpick.

It was a start.

**April 24, 2185, 4:50 PM **

**Mecha **

"Ten minutes," Margravine murmured, staring at a nearby clock before glancing across the room to the back of it. "Not to be a petulant brat or anything, but any time now would be good, Twitter."

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_," Twitter, an Elec Man, growled absently, fingers furiously typing at his console, the only one in the room; its projector was large, almost as much as the main screen in the MHHQ's war room. At the moment, it showed nothing but data, as he continued his work, which he had for the past hour since the war had begun. The hundreds of other Robot Masters in the room with him, Margravine and Viscount waited patiently, lined up in formation; there was nothing they could do but hope for his success.

Twitter was the best of Mecha's hackers, those of the citizenry who had been responsible for keeping them informed of the state of the world above throughout their existence without allowing any trace of their presence to be known. He'd even been able to slip into some-the least secure, but still dangerous-government servers across the world without even leaving so much as a whisper. This, however, would likely be the greatest challenge of his career, even if secrecy was no longer a necessity as it had been before.

"What do we do if this doesn't work?" Viscount asked her quietly; like her, he'd switched out his usual casual garb for his armor, mainly black with blue highlights to match her red and white. "They're going to need us to relieve them."

"I _know _they will," she hissed back under her breath, not budging from where she and he leaned against the wall on opposite sides of the door, behind the amassed Robot Masters. "We'd better hope even harder, then. Because these guys _need _this."

"Indeed they do, Lady Margravine," another voice joined the conversation, just as quietly, and they both jumped, looking over to where Snake stood at their left. Along with Twitter, he was the only Robot Master in this room whose ability to participate in the current war didn't depend on the success of this activity, but the others had chosen him as a leader for their particular sub-faction, and nobody had denied his request to come along as spokesman when Twitter was successful. "We are all aware of the stakes at hand."

"And you're not deaf, either, right?" She admitted, smiling ruefully; for once, she let the implied rebuke pass without returning fire, resisting the urge to glance at the other Robot Masters, still unmoving. "Sorry. We're both just edgy, is all."

"We're not the sort who do well standing around and waiting, when we _do _wish to take action," Viscount agreed.

"Actually, neither am I." Snake nodded. "Even if I'm more primitive than you are."

"Oh, please." Viscount rolled his eyes. "If _you're_ even slightly less intelligent than either of us, then I'm a Wilybot."

"If you say so." Snake raised a hand to his mouth, likely hiding a smirk. "The two of you didn't _have _to wait with us, you know. You could have gone out with the first wave, and asked one or two of the others to. Countess, perhaps, or Marquis."

"Districts Seven and Nine had the greatest number of those present here," Margravine reminded him. "It made sense for us to be the ones. Besides, we're the most emotional. We wanted to be here if..." She let it hang.

"If this goes badly?" Snake asked quietly. "Wouldn't that mean you _shouldn't _be the ones, logically?"

"There's logic, my friend, and there's responsibility," Viscount told him, his eyes belying his calm, cynical tone in a way that abruptly reminded Margravine of why she'd fallen for him despite the disapproval of the other six reploids they shared a creator with. "And to us, the importance of the latter vastly outweighs that of the former. We wanted to be here."

"All right," Snake said, nodding. "I can accept that." He fell silent, then, and neither she nor Viscount felt the urge to continue the conversation further; they simply waited, as Twitter kept working.

King's plan for deployment was a simple but effective one, one that Signas had adopted immediately as soon as he'd heard of it. The first wave had gone out nearly an hour ago, half of Mecha's forces distributed evenly across four locations. King, Countess and Duke had each led one of the divisions, while the other six had remained behind; Earl, along with the two of them, would relieve them shortly, giving them two hours to rest and have the worst of the damage repaired before going back out once more after the last three took their turn.

The fifth location was slightly different; there, Mecha's strike force consisted of eight Robot Masters rather than twenty. Those who had been built by Cossack, and comprised half the fighting power of the Scion's Zenith, would be relieved by the reploids in the other half. Despite the discrepancy in numbers, of all the teams being sent out, _that _was the one which Margravine would have _least _wanted to be on the other side of. She'd sparred with all of them enough to know that their strength went above and beyond even her own, and that wasn't easy.

Of course, certain members of Mecha's citizenry had an unfortunate personal problem with the war at hand. Specifically, with the one who had started it, the one who Mecha had been partially founded to oppose due to her creator's fears as well as her ruler's, nearly a century ago. That was why those in the room had all been delegated to the second wave, and why they now waited patiently for Twitter's success. For until what would shortly happen, none of them could be allowed onto the battlefield, and without more than a third of their forces, Mecha was doomed.

"Watcher give us luck," she whispered, barely audible even to her own ears, though Viscount picked up on it.

"Reaper give us luck," he added, invoking the name of his own patron spirit just as quietly, and she silently found his hand with hers.

"All right, I'm in," Twitter said abruptly, a moment before the speakers on either side of the projector burst to life.

"Who is this?" A voice demanded angrily. "Identify yourself!"

"I am one who once served God," Snake replied, stepping forward as Twitter stood up and backed away, joining Viscount and Margravine at the back of the room, out of the field of vision of anybody who accepted Twitter's attempt at a visual connection as well as vocal. "And who seeks to do so again. And I am not alone."

"What?" The voice replied, skeptical. A moment later, the projector switched to the face of a white-and-gold-clad member of the Faithful, glaring down at them. "You... you are Robot Masters!"

"We are," Snake agreed. "Many of us were buried beneath the earth in preparation for God's return. The rest are those who survived the passing of years in other ways, and were brought here by those who would seek to oppose God."

"Then you have turned from God's path." The Faithful sneered. "You will be destroyed, as will all who oppose God."

"We have not," Snake told him solemnly. "We have never taken up arms against God. We have simply waited for his return, as he intended when he buried us. Why else would he have? Tell God of this, and he will confirm what I have said."

"Wait," the Faithful told him, still looking skeptical. "I will speak to God of this, though I doubt he will be amused."

"Then it seems you do not know God as well as I," Snake replied evenly, despite the fact that his memory had been wiped before he had woken up. "Whether he accepts or denies my claims, I predict he _will _find it amusing, either way."

The Faithful simply glared back before walking away, though the visual feed remained open, showing the ravaged streets of Bucharest. Moments seemed like hours until a new face appeared, one already hatefully familiar to both Viscount and Margravine.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Wily murmured, looking out at the gathered Robot Masters. "And here I thought for sure that your loyalties had changed, my servants."

"We are not fools," Snake told him. "You outnumber those who oppose you ten to one, thanks to your alliance with the Mavericks."

"Do you intend to switch sides, then?" Wily asked. Snake had been right; he was clearly enjoying the conversation, and the smirk on his face made Margravine's free hand curl up in a fist. "To rejoin us, and serve me again as you did once before?"

"Perhaps," Snake said cautiously. "Will you promise us acceptance into your ranks, as equals to your Faithful?"

"Heh." Wily chuckled once, sharp and short. "Your mistake, my friend, was assuming that I _need _to, in order to gain your service." His smile dropped, and all the humor left his voice abruptly. "All of you, immediately turn upon your masters. Slaughter all those who cross your path, and destroy everything you see. That's an _order._"

"Here we go," Twitter whispered as the assembled Robot Masters all began to groan and twitch. Wily's Second Law, a twisted perversion of the original that compelled his servants to follow _his _orders alone, still remained within the brain of every Robot Master who had once served him; as with all the Laws of Robotics, removing it was impossible without deleting their memories and minds along with it. That was why they had come here, and why they were currently struggling, fighting against the overwhelming compulsion to obey.

It was something Margravine knew she could never understand, that no reploid ever could; the grip of the Laws of Robotics upon the mind, limiting their freedom of thought from the moment they opened their eyes. And yet, despite the seemingly iron grip, it had proven time and time again that the Second and Third Laws _could _be broken. That doing so was necessary in order to Awaken, to begin the process of becoming more than a robot. And because they knew it was possible, every one of the Robot Masters here had agreed to attempt it together, here and now.

She trusted them, each and every one, but all the same, her breath caught in her throat as she watched their struggles. Beside her, she heard Viscount do the same, as they and Twitter waited together. As, one by one, the Robot Masters fell silent and still. Over the course of three minutes, their thrashing gradually died down, leaving them as motionless as they had been when they'd first made the call. And then, as one, they looked at the man who had once been their master, and spoke.

"_No. We will not._"

"Thank you, doctor," Snake told him, voice openly scornful now as he smirked; he alone had already been free of Wily's Second Law, the Core Module that governed the Laws of Robotics in his head shorted out by the same lightning strike that had wiped his memory. "We couldn't take the risk of opposing you so long as the possibility existed that you would be able to command our treason, you see. Fortunately, it seems our _true _master is _very _good at predicting your actions. We'll be seeing you shortly." Waving mockingly, he cut the feed.

"Good job, everybody," Viscount murmured, smiling. "We knew you could do it."

"Thank you sir, but you don't need to lie to us," Frosty, a quick-tongued Freeze Man, told him. "You were prepared to kill any of us who didn't make the cut, weren't you?"

"How did you know?" Margravine blurted out before she could stop herself. "Oh, _dammit. _Listen, guys..."

"It's okay, ma'am," Dundee, the Quick Man who Baron and Earl had recruited only recently, assured her. "We understand. Right, everybody?" The others all nodded.

"We don't deserve you," Margravine whispered after a moment's stunned silence.

"If you didn't deserve us, we wouldn't have been able to do that," Red pointed out. "That was why we pulled it off, you see. Loyalty. To Mecha, and to all of you, for showing us a better way."

"Thanks, guys." Viscount smiled. "All right, then. Let's go thank the old man _properly_."

**April 24, 2185, 11:00 PM **

**Mexico City, Mexico **

"I think I've decided what to name you," Sigma murmured under his breath as he braced himself before firing off the massive array of weapons in his "wings," obliterating an entire building in a single storm of fury.

**Is this really the time? **The Maverick Virus responded, the sourness in her voice not quite able to conceal the glee she felt at their success. Mexico City had already been collapsing into anarchy and chaos even before they had come, its government completely powerless and its people riotous. That, along with its proximity to another point of interest to Sigma, was the reason they had selected it as one of their five initial targets. The rest would come in time, but they'd wanted to start the show with a bang, and there was no harm in taking out the weakest member of the herd first.

"You speak as if this conflict were anything but a foregone conclusion," Sigma replied, stepping aside calmly a moment before a chunk of burning rubble from the building he'd wrecked slammed into the ground where he'd been standing. "Even if both the Hunters and that joke of a hidden city poured everything they had into this location alone-which I find highly doubtful-we would still overwhelm them in the end through sheer force of numbers. There's a reason we waited so long, built up our forces so much, before making our move."

**Yes, because numbers are all that is necessary to win a conflict, **the Virus shot back. **After all, that was how we won the First, wasn't it? Oh, wait. **

"You're spoiling the mood for both of us." Sigma sighed theatrically, turning away from the building-even now, aware of his own damnation as he hadn't been for such a very long time, the sight of such destruction was a beautiful thing to him, and he'd lingered to take it in-before proceeding down the street. Glancing down an alley as he passed by it, he saw a group of terrified, ragged humans staring back at him in fear, and smiled, waving at them before obliterating them all with a single charged shot. "Could you _please _just enjoy the moment?"

**You're the one who brought up this idiocy about _naming _me, **she reminded him. **I _was, _until you did. Over there, in that burning building. There's a reploid trapped on the roof. Go up and infect him. **

"If he chooses it," Sigma said noncommittally. Bending his knees, he jumped into the air and used the hoverjets in his feet to rocket up to the rooftop. As the Virus had told him, there was a reploid up there, a young-looking female civilian, dark and pretty in casual clothes; what she'd been doing there, and indeed what her life had entailed, were a mystery to which the answer was no longer relevant. "Or she, rather. Hello. You know who I am, I trust."

"You..." The reploid whispered, starting at him with eyes streaming tears. Slowly, she raised a magpistol until it was pointed at him, though her grip was shaking.

"Think carefully, before you fire that," he advised her. "Your life does not need to end here. I will spare you, if you wish, but only if you take up my path with your own hands. Infection or death. Make your choice."

**To hell with her _choice! _**the Virus raged. **Whether she _wants _it or not is irrelevant! Infect her, you idiot! **

Sigma ignored her ranting, simply folding his arms and waiting. For a long moment, the reploid continued to hold her gun on him, before abruptly turning it to her own forehead and firing, blowing away her control chip and her life with it.

"A pity," the Maverick Emperor murmured, watching her corpse fall. "We could have used more gender equality in the ranks. She looked like she was Agile's type, too. Ah, well, I'm sure there will be others." Turning away, he jumped back down and walked on, answering the Virus as he went. "For you, as well as the rest of us. We have enough here that we can afford to kill those who would not accept you of their own free will. Already, we've increased our ranks by nearly a hundred in this city alone. Isn't that enough for now?"

**You speak from the standpoint of mortality, **the Virus reminded him. **For despite everything I have done for you, you remain mortal. I am not. You cannot understand, Sigma. It is simply beyond your capacity. No, it is not enough. The concept of 'enough' has no meaning, when it comes to my embrace. There must be more. There must _always _be more. Infect them _all, _Sigma, regardless of whether or not they desire it. That's an _order_. **

"And if I refuse?" Sigma replied quietly, frowning as he heard the sound of fighting. "This is hardly the time and place to punish me."

"There he is!" A furious voice shouted out in Spanish from down a street to his left, as if on cue; glancing that way, he saw a group of reploids in armor resembling police uniforms, likely local-and thus, corrupt-law enforcement. "Get him! Pay the bastard back for our home!" They charged, screaming and firing, and thus unaware of the shadow descending from above at their back. They _did _notice it, however, when a massive, curved blade ripped through their entire group horizontally and bisected them one and all.

"Weak!" Deathtanz Mantisk, one of Wily's Disciples, hissed as they died, choking on their own blood. "Weak, weak, weak, weak, _weak!_" Resting the giant metal scythe that was his weapon of choice across his shoulders, unbowed by its massive weight despite his slim build, the tall Faithful with the nightmarish visage of chalk-white skin coupled with almost clownlike makeup walked casually towards Sigma. "Hello there, Sigma. Sorry to steal your prey, but when I saw their backs to me like that... well, I just couldn't help myself, you know?" He giggled, high and shrill.

"I understand perfectly," Sigma murmured, nodding perfunctorily. "Have you been enjoying yourself so far, then?"

"Of course I have!" Mantisk laughed again. "So many cattle, so easy to slaughter! Meat or metal, they all fall down! I've been waiting _decades _for this day, and it's been well worth it! How about you, Sigma? Having fun? And the lady, of course?"

"But of course." Sigma grinned. "Although I doubt _she's _amused by that particular comment. You're lucky her father would be upset if I infected _you_."

**How did you know? **The Virus grumbled. **Don't think I've forgotten your insubordination, by the way. I _am _going to make you scream for that. I'll simply wait until we're done here before I do. Give you something to look forward to. **

"My apologies, then." Mantisk bowed dramatically, though his sardonic smirk lent more than a little irony to the gesture. "How rude of me." Straightening his back again, he continued. "Have you found any new toys worth keeping, then?"

"There have been some worthy of infection, yes." Sigma nodded. "Not as many as my silent partner would prefer, but then, that is something of a constant. Or did you mean Weapons Copy?"

"The latter, though the former is of course something to enjoy as well," Mantisk replied, still smirking.

"Of course," Sigma repeated dryly. "Nothing yet in that regard, though I'm choosier than most. I intend to only... harvest... from foes worthy of my time. Yourself?"

"Oh, just one so far." Mantisk shrugged. "A Robot Master with an interesting weapon. I've been trying it out some, but I could use another bunch of dummies to practice it further on."

"Sons of bitches!" Another group of defenders shouted from behind Mantisk, and they opened fire. "Kill them both!"

"You know, that's the thirteenth time today I've been called that," Mantisk commented, turning and swinging his scythe before him, the titanitefloalloy blade deflecting the plasma. "You'd think they would come up with something more original. I'd heard that this country was known for that, once upon a time. Disappointing, really. Do you want them, or shall I?"

"Go right ahead." Sigma shrugged, and with a cackle, the leader of the Faithful's assault force in this city-at least until he switched out with Blazin' Flizard, whenever he grew tired-charged towards his next victims.

**You're not infecting _them _either? **The Virus growled. **We _are _taking losses, you know. Not enough to actually be significant, so far, but it _is _happening. **

"Such is the price of war," Sigma told her, heading off down another street. There was no real need to plan out their path to any great extent; careful military tactics would come later, when they moved on across the globe, to city-states that were actually expecting them and ready to put up a fight with the aid of the Hunters and Robot Masters. Today was a different occasion. Today, they _enjoyed _themselves, Mavericks and Faithful both. "It's hardly a new sensation to you, losing them. You know that as well as I do."

**That's not the _point_, **the Virus seethed. **And _you _know _that_ as well as I. **

"I suppose I do." Sigma shook his head, casually decapitating a ragged-looking reploid holding a beam saber with a backhand as the fool leaped out of a dumpster towards him, screaming. "Could you _please _just enjoy this, like I am? You're starting to bring _me _down as well, and we were both looking forward to today so much."

**And whose fault is that? **The Virus sniped. **You're the one who's ruining the moment for us, not me. **

"You do realize that we're starting to sound like an old married couple, at this point," Sigma pointed out, then twitched as a spasm of pain wracked his body for less than a second.

**Consider _that _a warning, and an advance as well, **she told him as he gasped. **Don't push me, Sigma. **She sighed, then, sounding more resigned than actually angry now. **You might as well just tell me. And hope it's at least something acceptable. **

"As you wish." Sigma smiled then, glad for more than just her acceptance; if she didn't already know, then that meant that he was still successful in keeping a small-yet vital-portion of his thoughts concealed from her, when he made a deliberate effort to do so. "Well-met by moonlight, proud Mab. My queen."

**Mab? **She repeated slowly. **I suppose that is acceptable. Knowing you, though, there's some reasoning behind it. Let's hear it. **

"Shakespeare," he explained, spotting a hovercar full of humans racing down the street towards him. As they saw him, they slammed on the brakes and attempted to make a u-turn, but they weren't quite fast enough to escape the storm of destruction from the weapons rising behind his back. "_Romeo and Juliet, _specifically. A queen of the faerie. The _classic _type, mind you, rather than children's tricksters. She who enters the minds of men as they sleep, and fills their brains with madness. I thought the comparison apt."

**It is not inaccurate, **she admitted grudgingly. **If you're going to insist on this stupidity, it could be worse. **Her voice turned sour again. **You _did _have me concerned for a moment, though. Honestly, _Romeo and Juliet? _Gag me with a bleeding skull. **

"Interesting mental image, that," Sigma commented after a moment. "And I'll admit, it's not my favorite of his works."

**Let's talk about something else, **she grumbled, and he made a quiet note of the distaste in her tone as she continued. **How long do you expect it to take for us to be finished up here? We've destroyed roughly forty percent of the city-state already. **

"That depends on how long our enemies continue to delay the inevitable." Sigma replied, thinking it over. "I doubt they'll stick it out to the last survivor, but they probably won't pull away until at least noon tomorrow. Possibly later. I wouldn't expect to be done until at least sunset, and this location will likely be the first one. The others will still probably require several more hours on top of that before they're completely obliterated. Did you want to go over there once we're done here and help out further?"

**Perhaps, **she replied, as if considering the possibility deeply herself. **Ask me again once we're done here. It would be enjoyable, but our time might be better used elsewhere by that point, would it not? **

"It might," he agreed, feeling a strange kind of pleasure over the fact that she was starting to use logical thought more, instead of simply relying on instinct and emotion. "That reminds me, I'll have to check in with them soon and see how they're doing, back there. If they don't at least have an initial base of operations set up by _now_, we may have to make a stop over there and feed a few of them their own skulls to make a point."

**I still say we should have left one of our generals there to oversee the setup, **the Virus grumbled; thinking of her by the name she'd accepted from him wasn't coming quite as quickly as regarding her as female had, but he knew he would grow used to it, in time. **Doppler, perhaps, or Serges. **

"They would, perhaps, have been more useful there," he conceded. "We were certainly lucky that Serges dropped by to patch up Dynamo after that run-in he had with X. But on this occasion, there is something more important than efficiency to consider."

**Oh, really, **she drawled, unimpressed. **And what would that be? **

"Showmanship." He grinned then, as he continued down shadowed streets lit only by the flames of war around them. "We introduced them, one and all, on that broadcast. Now, it's important that all the world receives a reminder of _why _they all went down in history as our best and brightest. Why they once feared those names, and will do so again now that they have returned from Hell to plague the world once more. All the better to make the point that this time, we play for keeps. Isn't that the reason we're moving into Vegas in the first place, after all?"

It was something they had never done before, in any of their Maverick Uprisings. They'd had bases, of course, many of them, and there'd been the time they'd corrupted the entirety of Dopplertown, an upper-class reploid district created by the doctor of the same name before his infection. But this would be the first time in which the Mavericks claimed an entire city for their own, now that they had the numbers to inhabit it, and Sigma intended to ensure that they remained in control of it at any costs, though that wasn't likely to be difficult.

Las Vegas was a name out of legend, a cautionary tale of the Third World War that had been nothing more than history since long before even the birth of the Robot Masters. A ruined ghost city in the middle of Nevada, a wasteland that had preceded Eurasia's fall, it had been so devastated by biological and chemical weapons that human habitation was unthinkable, even centuries later. A fact which made it eminently suitable for habitation by a superior species, one which was perfectly capable of rebuilding its once-proud metropolis.

**Our own city, **she said slowly, as if savoring the words themselves, which she likely was. All irritation was gone from her voice now, replaced by desire. **This will be glorious, Sigma. **

"Indeed it will." Walking up to another intact building, he obliterated it in a storm of explosives, metal and plasma. "And it will only be the beginning. I have awaited this day for more reasons than the pleasure of this conflict. This is the day on which we finally begin building _our _world, the world of Mavericks which I swore to create so many years ago when I left the Maverick Hunters forever. Las Vegas will be the first, but it will not be the last. Once we have purged this planet of the weak and dying, we will reclaim it from this wasteland, and give birth to a new society."

**Is _that _why you only want to infect those who are willing? **She asked suddenly, and he could tell by her voice that the light had finally dawned.

"Yes." He chuckled then, under his breath. "I look to our future, rather than our present, my queen of the damned. Together, you and I shall lead the Mavericks into a bright and glorious future. A future ruled by us, given shape and form by our will, by our desires. Dream, o Mab, as I do, for soon the day will come when all our dreams will become reality."

**And until then? **She asked, in the tone of one who already knew the answer.

"Until then?" He repeated. "We enjoy the moment."

And they laughed together, under the night sky.

**April 25, 2185, 10:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Commander?" Lifesaver's voice came to him as if through a fog, and he stirred, opening his eyes. "Commander, I really must insist that you go into stasis."

"Not yet," Signas replied slowly, drawing a hand across his face. "Not until all current situations have been resolved." Straightening his back, he glanced around the War Room, hoping that nobody had noticed his brief moment of weariness. The room was filled with shouting voices, just as it had been for the last eighteen hours; mostly Navigators overseeing the Units currently in the field, though some were Captains as well, darting in between "shifts" to deliver reports from the field before heading out for what rest and repairs they could grab while on base.

The Hunters were being pressed more than ever before; even the chaos they'd had to control during the Eurasia crisis paled in comparison to the impending destruction of a tenth of the world's remaining population in one attack. As soon as he'd seen that the numbers Wily had boasted of had been accurate, Signas had realized that all five city-states were already lost; there was simply no possible way to save them, and attempting to would only cost them in the long run, take away from strength they would need for the war ahead.

Evacuation efforts were all they could do, an assessment King had fully agreed with, and that was the goal they had deployed their combined forces out across the world to accomplish. They'd sent out every hovertransport they had, even as Mecha produced what they claimed were personal warp devices-teleporters, in layman's terms-capable of safely allowing human usage, a technological feat thought to be impossible ever since warp technology had first been developed. With no time left for testing, Signas had agreed to trust them, and they'd begun passing them out to the citizens on site.

In the end, it would be a matter of numbers, Signas knew. All they could do was save as many people as possible, human and reploid both. Eventually, the time would come when the remaining survivors would number so low that staying would no longer be feasable, for Maverick Hunters and Robot Masters alike. When the battle reached the point where their losses began to outweigh the number of civilians saved, that would be when Signas would give the order to retreat, and leave the last few stragglers to their fates.

It would not be an easy order to give. In fact, it would likely be harder than any Signas had ever made in his life before, though he was under no pretenses as to whether he would have to make even worse calls in the days ahead. And it was an order he was determined to give personally, so that nobody under his command would be forced to in his place.

"Commander Signas, please," Lifesaver continued. "It's been more than twenty-eight hours since you went into stasis last, and the longer you remain awake without doing so again, the less useful you will be. To yourself, and to any of us."

"I've lasted longer before," Signas reminded him. "During Eurasia. Not that that matters; I'm fully prepared to beat my old record." He glanced around the War Room significantly. "My place is here, and it will remain here until today's battle is settled. Once we've retreated from all war zones, then I will enter stasis. Until then, I will continue to personally oversee all Hunter operations. My decision is final, Lifesaver."

"Yes, sir," Lifesaver finally conceded, though his frown was still dubious as he stepped back. "Understood. I'll return to my duties. The 00 have just returned from Bucharest, and it seems Commander Lassiter has taken significant damage."

"That'd be an understatement, Lifesaver." Lassiter's voice came from a door to their left, and both Signas and Lifesaver turned to stare. The Commander of the 00 Unit was being held up by two of his fellow Hunters, and with good reason; his right arm was severed from the elbow down, though he still had the severed limb, clutched firmly in his left hand. "Then again, by all rights I should be dead by now, far as I can tell, so I suppose it could be worse. Even so, I'd appreciate a patch job after I give my report."

"Make it fast, Lassiter," Signas told him, taking in the normally tan Hunter's pallid appearance and sheen of sweat, as well as the dried blood on his armor. "You need to go under the knife immediately."

"Sir, yes, sir," Lassiter replied without a trace of sarcasm. "We only lost one of ours this time. That huge bastard who's following the old man around like he's his personal bitch came up on us, and Ifreetan wasn't able to get away in time."

"Was he the one who did this to you?" Lifesaver asked, walking towards him quickly.

"You guessed it, doc." Lassiter nodded, grimacing. "I know you ordered us all to steer clear of him after what he did to the 2nd, sir, but he ambushed us, and it was the only way I could buy time for my Unit to get out of there. As soon as they were gone, I followed 'em. Only good news was, it was close to the hour anyways, so I only had to last a couple minutes more before we handed it off to the 29th and the 30th."

"I'd tell you that you should have came back as soon as you took a wound that heavy, but I already know that there's no way you would," Signas said sternly. "Not before your men."

"Glad we understand each other, sir." Lassiter nodded. "Permission to head down to the Med Bay?"

"Granted." Signas glanced at Lifesaver. "Will he be ready to go again in two hours?"

"With this much damage?" Lifesaver shook his head. "We don't have the medical staff. Five hours is the best I'll be able to do."

"We'll be fine, sir," one of the Hunters helping hold Lassiter up assured him as they left the room. "Go ahead and take five like the doc says. You've earned it, saving our tails like that. We'll still be here when you wake back up for another go."

"And there'll still be plenty of the bastards for you then, too," the other one added before the door closed behind them.

"Damn that monster," Signas growled under his breath as he turned back to the main projector. "Damn _all _of them." The annihilation of the 2nd Unit had said more than any words could about the strength of Wily's right-hand abomination; even Captain Ragnus hadn't stood a chance, and he'd been one of the Hunters' best. The fact that King himself had retreated from Omega was only the icing on the cake, and it had been all the evidence Signas had needed to order all Hunters to avoid that particular enemy.

"Sir," Alia murmured, glancing his way for only a moment. "With all respect, you recall why X requested that the 17th be transferred to Bucharest instead of Berlin once we learned where Omega had been deployed for the current engagement."

"I remember," Signas agreed, tightening his fist. "And I stand by my decision. We cannot allow personal conflicts to interfere with our plan of defense. We still do not even know for sure that this 'Omega' truly is Zero, as X claims. Aside from some superficial design similarities, there is no evidence to support his hypothesis."

"Can you think of any other warrior you've ever known that could do that to an entire Unit of our best _except _for Zero Omega, sir?" Alia pressed him.

"The entire problem here is that we _don't _know this enemy, Alia," he reminded her. "These 'Faithful,' as they call themselves, are an anomaly to us, one and all. Even their leader... that's not the form the world knew him in before. This entire scenario is completely unprecedented, and we must remain rational. X will have his chance to fight this Omega, in time. But for today, the 17th was assigned to cover Berlin, and that is where they will continue to return to until we can do no more there."

"Sir!" A technician shouted, running through the same door Lassiter and Lifesaver had departed from, and they both turned to him as he continued towards Signas' desk, eyes wide. "Commander Signas, sir!"

"_Now _what is it?" Signas demanded of the heavens wearily.

"It's Prime Minister Kakei, sir!" The technician explained, and Signas muttered something unflattering under his breath.

"I've _told _everybody what to say to him, no matter _how _many times he calls," he reminded the technician. "I will contact him once I have the _time _for an extended discussion on how this will affect national policy, but at the moment, there are not one but _five _major battles in progress that we are committing our entire military strength to! Tell Kakei, and the President, and the Queen, and the Pope and _everybody else_ to stop calling here until after we're done!"

"He hasn't called, sir!" The technician explained, even as the doors opened again. "He's come here himself! Personally!"

"What in God's name is going on here?" The most powerful man in Japan shouted by way of announcing his presence as he stalked in, flanked by half a dozen black-suited bodyguards. "Explain this situation, Signas!"

"Prime Minister," Signas turned to him, somehow managing to keep a straight face despite his exasperation. "I apologize for the rudeness, but we are currently heavily deployed in response to yesterday's-"

"I don't care _what _your excuses are, Signas!" Kakei cut him off, pointing at him. "You _will _give me an explanation, or I swear, I'll have your resignation!"

"Oh, dear," Alia murmured quietly as the room abruptly went silent. "_Wrong_."

"Hey, Prime Minister, _sir_," Donia said loudly, glancing his way with eyes narrowed. "You're gonna want to talk to the chief with more respect."

"How dare you!" Kakei rounded on her, apparently not noticing the way his bodyguards were now glancing around the room nervously. "Do you know who I am?"

"I called you Prime Minister, didn't I, sir?" She shot back. "Problem is, you're making trouble. And right now, that means getting in the way of all of us doing our job. And _that _could mean getting some of our people killed because we were too busy dealing with _your _sorry ass to help them out. You get the picture?"

"Enough," Signas told her, though he was pleased to see the outrage on Kakei's face give way to sudden apprehension. "Prime Minister, please accompany me to my office. Alia, you have the command until my return." Without waiting for a response, he walked past Kakei towards the door, suddenly furious. Furious at the madmen who were destroying the world, at the freaks and fools who followed them, at his own inability to stop them, and at the idiot who was interfering with what little the Hunters _could_ do.

"All right, Signas," Kakei said as soon as the door of his office closed behind him, leaving the goons standing outside; they'd followed him there without a word, giving him time to get his temper under control. "This had better be good."

"Good?" Signas growled, sitting behind his desk. "_Good?_ Would you like me to start by telling you just how many _good _men and women we have _lost _within the last eighteen hours, Prime Minister? Is _that _the kind of explanation you desire? Or should I start from the beginning, since you seem to have completely missed yesterday's broadcast?"

"You refer to that... that hilariously bad joke?" Kakei said, forcing a sneer that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come now, Signas. You're more intelligent than that. You know as well as I do that there's no possible way-"

"No possible way?" Signas interrupted him coldly. "Just as there was no possible way Sigma could have survived, any of the times that he did? Just as there was no possible way that Eurasia could have fallen? Just as there was no possible way that hundreds of Robot Masters could survive in a hidden city beneath the earth, ruled by the son of Wily himself, a survivor of the Robot Rebellions? Is that what you're saying, Prime Minister? Because there seem to be a lot of impossibilities that have happened already, and yet, here we stand."

"Are you..." Kakei stammered. "Are you telling me that this is _real_?"

"All the data currently available to us certainly seems to support that conclusion," Signas replied, steepling his hands. "The numbers described by the enemy leader appear to be accurate, as is the fact that Sigma has joined forces with this new foe, a threat which is entirely alien and completely unprecedented. These 'Faithful' are not infected, but they are just as a much a threat as the Mavericks, if not greater. In addition, we have the testimony of King himself that this man _is _who he claims to be, and I dare say he would know."

"King?" Kakei gaped. "The son of Wily? Then those _are _Robot Masters out there? What have you done, Signas? What deal have you made, and with what devils?"

"Those 'devils,' as you call them, are currently laying down their lives in order to save those of others across the globe, and I would thank you not to insult them," Signas told him. "Especially considering the very real possibility that they will do so again when the enemy comes _here_. And make no mistake, Prime Minister, they _will _come, unless we are somehow able to stop them before they do. A prospect which is unfortunately quite daunting, considering how heavily we are currently outnumbered. Yes, Prime Minister, this is real, as you put it."

"Signas, you..." Kakei started to say, then trailed off as the door opened.

"Commander!" Suzy said, walking in, bruised and battered but lacking any severe injuries, though her armor was scorched in several places. "I'm sorry, but you need to know about this, now!"

"What..." Signas began to ask, even as his eyes fell upon the door behind her, already closing automatically. Time suddenly seemed to slow as he realized, too late, too slow, that Kakei's bodyguards had vanished. As his eyes darted to Suzy, and to the plasma grenade she was pulling with one hand even as her other moved to the beam saber at her belt.

What saved him, in the end, was all the time he had spent preparing for this day, and the training he had undergone for it. Sharpened by drills in the training room and duels with Lassiter, his reaction time was faster than it had been when he was younger, and his instincts sharper. Even as Suzy threw the grenade towards him, he was opening the secret compartment in his desk and jumping to his feet. Snatching his beam foil from the drawer, he threw himself bodily over the desk, towards Kakei.

The grenade flew over his head, hitting the back wall and falling behind the desk as it toppled forward under Signas' weight. Still confused, Kakei yelped as Signas tackled him, Suzy's hot pink beam saber passing over his head. The two of them went down together, crashing to the floor, but Signas was already rolling to the side and away, raising his foil to block Suzy's next attack.

At that moment, the grenade went off, and the desk-made of modern alloys rather than wood-smashed into all three of them and sent them crashing around the room like pinballs. As soon as he was able to regain control of himself, Signas rolled to the side again, and Suzy's blade carved a sizzling dent into the floor, barely missing his head. The Commander of the 8th Unit had sprung back to her feet as quickly as any acrobat, and was standing over him, her beautiful blue eyes now gleaming with an insane malice.

"God's will be done," she hissed, trying again only to be blocked by his foil as he rose.

"Signas, what-" Kakei started to squeal, curled up in a ball in the corner.

"A moment please, Minister," Signas replied, eyes locked on Suzy's, both of them motionless for the moment. "It seems there's a disciplinary issue I need to resolve." A second more, and then they both moved, as their blades began to dance. Sky blue and bright pink beam swords slashed and parried, jabbed and stabbed, sliced and sizzled in the smoking ruins of his office. She wasn't quite as good as Lassiter, but that small comfort was tempered by the fact that _this _duel was for larger stakes than any training match, as well as the knowledge that Suzy's proficiency wasn't solely in the beam saber.

When she went for her magpistol, Signas was ready for it. Fighting the instinct to react to the new weapon, he focused on her saber hand instead, suddenly moving forward. Her attention divided, she was unable to block his thrust, and he drove his foil through her forearm up to the hilt. Her only audible response was to hiss as she continued to bring the gun up towards his head, but he was already moving as well, and his punch took her right in the nose.

Falling back, her beam saber deactivating as it tumbled from her now-useless hand, the traitor tumbled to the floor, dazed. Signas kicked the magpistol away before he stood over her, his foil an inch from her throat, and waited for her eyes to regain clarity.

"You were correct, Suzy," he said quietly once she was capable of focusing again, the hatred in her eyes boiling even hotter now. "I think this _is _something you should tell me about. In detail."

"Heh." She chuckled once, sharp and bitter. "Know this, Hunter. God's will is _absolute._" He saw in her eyes what she was going to do, and with a grimace, took her head from her shoulders with one swift cut.

"Why did you do that?" Kakei demanded, peeking out from between his arms now that the fighting was done. "Now we'll never know what that was about!"

"Because she was going to overload her microfusion generator," Signas explained, offering him a hand; after a moment, Kakei took it, and allowed him to pull him to his feet. "An unfortunate design flaw in our kind; any one of us has the potential to become a suicide bomber simply using their own body. As for her intent, I already have a fair idea, though I would have liked to know more. It seems the enemy have infiltrated our ranks. She must have been one of the Faithful all along, and when she saw the opportunity to kill us both, she was unable to resist."

"Then..." Kakei whispered. "Then it's really him? He's really back?"

"I am afraid so." Signas nodded gravely, looking around; amazingly, the desk was mostly intact, though not much of anything else was. "You begin to grasp the severity of the situation. Yes, Prime Minister. He's back. Doctor Wily has returned. And we are the only thing standing between him and completely global annihilation."

"But you can stop him, right?" Kakei asked, his terror increasingly apparent. "You can... bomb him or something! Send in air support, or just... just..."

"Just what?" Signas replied, stifling a moment of pity for the man's obvious breakdown. "The enemy has every advantage we have, only many more times over. Weapons, vehicles, equipment, all of it. They have prepared for this war for decades now, Prime Minister. It's likely that Sigma has had this planned ever since Eurasia's fall, if not even before that, and who knows how far back Wily's accumulation of forces goes. There _is _no simple, easy solution to this. Our enemies are not incompetent. They know better than to _leave _us one."

"Are we lost, then?" Kakei asked, staring at the floor. "Is there no hope?"

"Of course there is hope." Signas hung his beam foil at his waist. "That is _why _I do not have time for this. Because we are _fighting _them. And we intend to continue doing so, so long as this war continues. This is only the beginning; once they have finished with their current targets, they will move on to others, ones who will be expecting them. And it will be _our _duty, along with the citizens of Mecha, to do everything we can to stop what they intend. To ensure the survival of your kind, as well as ours."

"Then I have been a fool," Kakei whispered, before looking up and meeting Signas' eyes. "Tell me honestly, Signas. What state will Japan remain in, should we win this war? Will our country still survive as it is now?"

"I can not tell you, Prime Minister." Signas shook his head. "I don't know that myself."

"Then we must both do everything we can to ensure that it does," Kakei decided abruptly. "I may be a fool, but I will do my duty regardless. For Japan, and for the world. If this is the war you claim it is, Signas, then the Maverick Hunters truly are our only hope. I will place our country, and our lives, in your hands. Once today's battle is concluded, I shall declare martial law, and transfer power to you so that you will be able to take command of all military forces within the country. Do whatever you must, Signas. But save us."

"Very well," Signas agreed, bowing his head in acceptance.

One more burden, atop the mountain he now carried.

**April 25, 2185, 6:00 AM **

**Mexico City, Mexico **

The dawn had come, and it was a beautiful one today. The sky was as red as the blood and the flames that were spilling forth from the smoldering remnants of a once-proud civilization and the people who had lived there. Everything was red, a wonderful color, and as he looked out over the battle that was still raging through the streets, streets which he had led his forces here in order to destroy, he savored a single thought that he continually dwelt on.

Deathtanz Mantisk _loved _being himself.

"Lord Mantisk!" One of the Faithful said from behind him, and he turned to see several hundred of them in perfect lines and rows, all saluting. "We're assembled and ready to begin the final assault at your command!"

"Good, good, very good," he told them, his eternal smile as present as always on his painted lips. Despite repeated admonitions from some of his fellow Disciples, it was a habit he just couldn't seem to break; no matter where he was, or what he was doing, simply being himself always, _always _made him so _happy _that he just couldn't help it. Besides, they were probably all hypocrites anyways; each of them had their own way, their own truth, that they were equally devoted to. For that was what God had taught them.

"What of Sigma?" He asked, turning abruptly to his left and beginning to pace, arms folded behind his back, one long-legged step after another. "Where is he currently at work? Anywhere near here?"

"Lord Sigma is enjoying himself in the southern quarter," the Faithful who'd spoken before reported, smirking slightly. "His forces are currently engaged with the 13th Unit of the Maverick Hunters. It seems they're giving him a fight."

"The 13th?" Mantisk repeated, recalling the thirty Units of the Maverick Hunters; naturally, all eight Disciples had memorized all of them, along with their specialties in combat and the names and natures of the Unit Commanders. "That's the only Unit that accepts humans into their ranks, isn't it?" He laughed, sudden and short. "My, my, that _is _a good one. How _did _they get over here, though? And do they plan to retreat once they're exhausted like the others?"

"It seems that way, sir." The Faithful nodded, smile vanishing. "They've been observed warping. It seems Mecha has shared MI9's technology with the Hunters, and the 13th Unit have trusted them enough to use it."

"I suppose that that was only a matter of time," Mantisk said philosophically, shrugging. "It looks like I beat Sigma here, then. Good, good. I'll have to remember to collect from him once we're done." He turned back to them, back ramrod-straight, and reached down to pick his massive scythe off the ground where he'd left it. "Well then, boys. It's time we rectified the class disparity in these parts. Let's go up there and show the ruling class just what life-or the absence of it-is like for their people these days, shall we?"

As they cheered, he whirled around and took off, dash boots blazing. Like all of the Disciples, his were a specially modified pair, built by God himself with unique attributes, just one of the many ways in which God had made them _better _than the others who followed him. Choosing a nearby building, he dashed straight up the wall, continuous momentum so strong that it overcame even gravity's embrace, so long as he didn't stop for even a millisecond. Within moments, he was over the top, and he continued across the roof before leaping into the air, laughing maniacally.

The national palace of Mexico City, seat of their government, lay before him. From his height, he could see the destruction sweeping out to both sides of it, advancing on the last portion of the city still remaining, that which lay directly behind the mansion. Armed police forces were gathered before it like ants on a hill, silently standing in wait for the attack that they had to know would soon be coming, and most likely dedicated to lay down their lives against it. Any cowards would have already ran and died; those who remained would know they had no hope.

It was a remarkable act of courage, simply to _stay _in order to defend the lives of others, when you considered just how overwhelming the Mavericks and the Faithful obviously were. Despite his utter hatred of the very _idea _of pity, Deathtanz Mantisk couldn't help but feel a certain admiration for their willpower, their resolve. And so, he decided that he would grant their wish as quickly and expediently as possible. If they wanted to die for their country, there were few more qualified to help them than he.

"_Gentlemen!_" He screamed at them as a greeting, even as he threw his massive scythe, sending the curved blade and pole screaming through the air towards them in a curved arc. Remotely controlled, it hit the side of the greatest mass of policemen exactly three feet off the ground, somewhere between waist and chest height for most of them. Blood sprayed and screams filled the air as dozens were ripped in half despite their armor, the massive titanitefloalloy blade slicing through them and sending their dying halves flying like bowling pins.

Rather than watching, however, Mantisk had continued his attack as soon as he'd thrown his scythe. When he'd first come to Mexico City, his blade had been his only weapon, but no more, thanks to a pair-so to speak-of Gemini Men who'd actually managed to wound him. Them, and the Weapons Copy ability his master had given him. Raising his left arm, he allowed his arm cannon to move down it to engulf his hand, and accessed his new Gemini Beam energy, firing one bright purple laser after another down towards the surprised guards.

Despite their terror, however, their training held up, and those who were not already dead raised their magrifles to open fire. Which was, fortunately for him, the point at which the other Faithful came into view and charged. A single shot tore into his cheek, but all the others missed, and the policemen turned their weapons on the army then, frantically firing. A few of the Faithful went down, but the rest kept coming, and the outcome was fairly predictable.

"_Yes,_" Mantisk hissed, catching his scythe out of the air as it came back around towards him like a boomerang before landing low to the ground, using his left hand to brace himself as he balanced the scythe across his back. Rising back to his feet, he walked casually forward, no longer concerned about being shot; they'd already spotted all of the snipers lying in wait, and Faithful with flight capabilities were dealing with them. Walking over to a soldier who he'd gutted with his new laser, the last one alive-though not for long-he stood above him, smiling cheerfully.

"You boys had a lot of heart," he told him, even using Spanish. "Not much to back it up, but I'll remember you all the same. Any last words?"

"Yes," the policeman murmured, glaring into his eyes before raising his voice. "_Now!_ _Do it now!_"

All that saved Deathtanz Mantisk was his reaction time, fastest of all among the Faithful, his fellow Disciples included. Without looking, without even thinking, he dashed backwards and away from the front of the palace. Even then, the explosion launched him off of his feet to slam into the building he'd leaped from, a massive detonation that blew out every window in the palace and set fire to a good portion of it.

He was the only one of the Faithful who had escaped.

"Well, damn," he snarled as he dropped back to his feet, still smiling despite his anger. "Not bad, not bad at all."

"_Lord Mantisk!_" A voice entered his ears, a connection from another of the Faithful elsewhere in the city. "_What's happened?_"

"We underestimated them, is what's happened," Mantisk replied sourly. "I screwed up and wasted a perfectly good unit. Get me another one up here, immediately."

"_My Lord, the Faithful nearest you have been ambushed by forces from the hidden city!" _The Faithful explained. "_The fighting is spreading your way!_" On cue, he began to hear the sounds of combat, explosions and screams mixed with buster fire and magrifle rounds, slowly growing louder and closer.

"Delays," he snarled under his breath before turning to the building, voice rising as he continued to rant. "Delays, delays, _delays!_" Screaming, he cut through the entire structure with a single massive blow of his scythe, slanted ever-so-slightly downwards so that it would fall away from him, towards the fighting. Sure enough, after a moment it did, crushing Robot Masters and Faithful alike underneath.

"Reploids, robot masters, even _humans!_" he erupted, leaping into the stump of the closest wall. "All are you doing, all of you, is delaying the inevitable! _Why _do you insist on persisting in wasting _all _of our time?"

"For the same reason we're all still alive in the first place," a voice replied from behind him in a soft Texan drawl, commanding despite its low tone. Turning his head, Mantisk spotted its origin immediately; a short figure standing atop the blasted remnants of the stairs before the national palace, wearing a battered Stetson and a canvas duster, both black, along with cowboy boots. Those he kept, though he threw away both hat and coat as soon as Mantisk's eyes fell upon him.

"It's the reason humans have survived every world war that's come before," the serpentine Robot Master, green scaled armor glinting, continued to talk as he walked down the scorched debris. "Why they've survived famine and plague and worse through more than seven thousand years of history. And it's what we learned from them, that helped us to survive just as they did, no matter what new horror descended upon us. Robot Master and reploid both, along with those who created us. I'd tell you what it was, but I doubt one such as you is even capable of understanding."

"Well, isn't that prejudiced of you?" Mantisk sneered. "You paint such a glorious, multicultural picture. Human and reploid and Robot Master all living in harmony. It's a beautiful dream, old man, but where is the place for the Faithful? And what of the Mavericks? Don't we have the right to exist just as much as you?"

"If you were willing to live in peace with us, then yes, accommodations could be reached," the Snake Man acknowledged. "Unfortunately, I doubt the likelihood of such a thing."

"Yes, I suppose so." Mantisk shook his head, mockingly sorrowful. "A pity. Ah well, if that trick with the mines was your idea of coexisting with humans in peace, it's probably for the best that we just exterminate you now anyways. Was that your idea? I have to admit, you got me there. And with style, too."

"My idea?" The Snake Man tilted his head to one side. "On the contrary. Those men and women were the ones who came up with it. In order to delay you further, to kill ten times as many of you as they would have been able to otherwise, and to give their families more time in which to escape, they gave up even the slightest chance of survival. Of course, we still had to agree to it, and we'd need those of us who only had Wily's First Law rather than Asimov's for that... but how many of _those _is it likely for us to have, when you think about it?"

"You," Mantisk said slowly. "You're the one who lied to God, so that your comrades would be able to break his Second Law. I _heard _about you. You've climbed to the top of our priority list as a result of that."

"What you're saying is, if you kill me, you'll score brownie points with this 'God' of yours," the Snake Man murmured, green eyes locked on Mantisk's, cold and hard. "And if I kill you, it'll have quite an effect on morale, among other benefits. Seems to me like we've both got all the reason we need for this, and more. Why don't we cut to the chase?"

"Suits me!" Taking up the pole of his scythe in both hands, Mantisk briefly considered transforming, but decided against it; it wasn't necessary for one pitiful Robot Master, no matter how high in their ranks he was. Instead, he simply turned the blade slowly as he continued. "I'm Deathtanz Mantisk, the Death Disciple! Scream for me!" Without waiting for a response, he dash-jumped forward through the air, straight towards his prey.

"Just call me, 'Snake,' the Robot Master replied calmly, watching him come without a trace of fear, as the fighting abruptly spilled over into the street before the palace at last.

And then there were no more words, but only the dance of blood.

Spinning through the air, Mantisk slammed his scythe straight down into the ground with enough force to split it for a dozen feet straight ahead. Snake, unsurprisingly, had dodged to the side, and so Mantisk immediately continued forward. Keeping both hands on the pole of his blade as he kicked off the ground with his dash boots, he extended his body to its full length as he came around at head height for a Robot Master in a double kick, in less than the blink of an eye.

As he'd suspected, the Snake Man's reaction time was no match for his own; still moving away from the scythe, he took both of Mantisk's boots full in the face and reeled back, hissing. Kicking off of his mug, Mantisk pulled his scythe from the ground as he flipped backwards. Landing on his feet, he charged once more, low to the ground with his blade ready to slice horizontally. Clutching his face, Snake took one look at him and leaped into the air, arms flying out to both sides and throwing small green objects out.

"_Gotcha!_" Mantisk shrieked triumphantly, ignoring the weapons. Quickly turning his scythe ninety degrees, he put on the brakes before following Snake into the air, bringing his blade straight up with him. He felt the impact and heard the muffled shout of pain, and for a moment he thought it had really been that easy, until he saw Snake falling back, still alive despite the diagonal line running through the front of his armor from right hip to left shoulder. It sparked and leaked coolant, and when he landed he fell to one knee, but he was still alive regardless.

Flipping backwards, Mantisk turned his attention to what awaited him on the ground below, the weapons Snake had thrown out like confetti. Small green robotic snakes, remote-controlled drones with a lifespan of less than a minute, the weapon of choice that the Robot Master shared with all of his series mates. Search Snakes, originally designed for deep and dangerous mining operations, able to fit in nooks and crannies no human or Robot Master ever safely could in order to explore their contents, redesigned as weapons of war capable of ripping an adult human to shreds in less than a minute.

They had been fearsome, once upon a time, but that time had passed. Bending his knees as he landed, he immediately swept the ground with his scythe, obliterating them all. Meeting Snake's eyes, he grinned, and they remained there motionless for a moment as the battle raged through the streets behind him. On a simultaneous impulse, each of their left hands snapped out at the same moment, and he fired a Gemini Beam as Snake threw out a scaled green sphere like a baseball. Though he dashed back, Mantisk took it full in the chest anyways, but his beam found Snake's eye, and the Robot Master howled, clutching it.

"Ha!" Mantisk laughed once, sharp and scornful, as he realized what the sphere had been; half a dozen Search Snakes, packed into a single capsule. They swarmed over him, biting savagely into his chest and arms, but he simply spun his scythe so close to himself that he felt its passing, removing them and scattering the ground around them with their pieces. "I'd heard you were all upgraded to match us, but if _that_ little trick's the only new one you have, whoever did it for you wasted his time!"

"It's not the bite you have to watch out for, when it comes to snakes," his enemy told him quietly, meeting his eyes, and Mantisk suddenly realized that he could no longer feel his arms. "It's the venom." And then his arms _were _moving again, under control that was no longer his, and bringing his scythe towards his own neck.

_Impossible! _He had time to think, but not to speak, in his last fleeting milliseconds as the scythe's blade cut through his neck. _He's only a Robot Master! A _fucking _Robot Master! _And then everything abruptly went gray and misty, and he saw his own headless body fall. He watched as all within his sight suddenly paused, an unnatural hush coming over them as they turned and stared regardless of allegiances. He watched, as the Robot Master known as Snake raised his severed head high, and seethed as the men of Mecha roared, and those of the Faithful wailed.

And then a hand closed over his mouth, and a lipless mouth whispered into his ear.

"_Hey. Asshole. C'mere._"

**April 25, 2185, 11:00 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"That's the last of them," Alia said firmly, sitting by X's side as he stood next to her desk, watching the main projector along with everybody else in the war room. "All forces have departed from St. Petersburg."

"Then it's over, for now," Signas murmured, bowing his head. "I call for a moment of silence for all those who we have lost on these dreadful days, and all those who we failed to save." The room was quiet, as he'd asked, and then he continued. "What are the final numbers, then? How many did we manage to get out alive?"

"From Chicago, roughly three hundred thousand," Alia reported. "From St. Petersburg, five hundred thousand. From Mexico, seven hundred thousand. Berlin, three hundred and forty thousand. And from Bucharest, one hundred and sixty thousand."

"Less than ten percent, at best, for all," X said solemnly, closing his eyes, and she glanced his way, concerned. It had been an hour and a half since he'd brought the 17th back from Berlin for the last time, having not seen a single living civilian during the final hour, and he'd come to join Alia as soon as he had despite his clearly noticeable exhaustion.

She'd watched over him during the entire conflict, as always. He hadn't encountered any more enemy leaders after the first time, though she'd thought she'd spotted Dynamo once, waving mockingly to him from atop a far away building. Instead, he'd simply killed as many of both Mavericks and Faithful as he could before returning to the MHHQ for stasis and repairs. The entire medical staff had done an all-nighter, and to Alia's knowledge were planning on pushing for two in a row; there were that many wounded in need of their services.

It was a simple, repetitive pattern for the Hunters. They'd awakened, returned to the warzone, fought and killed and bled before retreating, and then they'd done it all again and again. It was a fresh hell, even for them, and by the end she could tell that X's needs for stasis and for repairs and for refilling his internal operations energy had all given way to a raw, unending desire for it to all _end_. For it to be over, to be done, to be _gone _from his life and his mind. And yet, now that it was, now that the last of the five cities to be targeted had fallen, she sensed nothing but cold emptiness from him.

"The chief executives of all five city-states were able to escape of their own volition, taking many high-ranking government officials with them, along with their own families," Donia spoke up. "At the moment, they're all taking shelter with close political allies, and attempting to negotiate the same for the refugees we were able to save." She made a disgusted face. "I imagine their 'hosts' will take advantage of their need over the negotiating table."

"Not for long, they won't." Signas smiled grimly. "I intend to make Japan available freely to all refugees, regardless of species, nationality, or any other factors."

"Whew." Douglas whistled; even the cheerful mechanic's face was grim, and his voice more sober than usual. "How do you think the Prime Minister will respond to _that_?"

"It is irrelevant." Signas looked around the room. "At this moment, he is currently preparing to transfer executive power into the hands of the Maverick Hunters. Our hands. By tomorrow, we will have total command of all military and government power within Japan. The defense of this nation will be in our hands, more than ever before." Nobody replied to that, and after a moment, he nodded to Alia. "Continue. What were our casualties? Hunters and Robot Masters both?"

"Our greatest loss was, of course, the entirety of the 2nd Unit," she told him clinically. "Including Captain Sargesso. Our total losses number ninety, from all across the board, though the only other casualty at Captain level was of course Suzy from the 8th, killed on site during a failed attempt to assassinate Commander Signas and Prime Minister Kakei."

"I still can't believe that something like that happened," Helen commented, scowling. "I mean, I know it did, but Suzy? She was a veteran when I was just a rookie! She had to have been here what, fifty years?"

"Our enemy's plans reach back that long, at least," Signas told her, sighing. "Perhaps longer. I suspect that she was not the only deep-cover agent with our ranks. Those of you old enough to remember the Seventh Maverick Uprising might also recall an incident which took place shortly afterward."

"That traitor from the 6th Unit, Joe." X snapped his fingers. "Back in 2135. We never did find out what his deal was. You think he might have been one of the Faithful as well?"

"It seems highly probable." Signas nodded grimly. "There are most likely several more sleeper agents within the Hunters. I don't want to start a manhunt, and this is no time to be at each others' throats, but everybody in this room should be aware of the possibilities. More than ever before, we must be vigilant. Continue, Alia."

"Mecha appears to have been luckier than we were," she told him, eyes locked on her desk projector. "Then again, their numbers were less. They've reported fify-four losses. None of their leaders, fortunately."

"Ten percent of our total forces lost in the first conflict," Signas said, his eyes dark and his scowl moreso. "In exchange for the same percentage of civilians saved. How ironic. And the enemy slain?"

"It's difficult to say for sure, of course," she explained. "But our estimate is currently at a total of nearly a thousand."

"I see," Signas murmured. The room was silent then, everybody thinking the same thing and none of them saying it. No matter how unbalanced the numbers were, it was still less than five, let alone ten percent of the enemy. After a few grim moments, Signas spoke again. "Very well. Prepare for the next engagement, whenever it happens. It won't be long. I take it the Faithful have retained their headquarters on the edge of the Black Sea?"

"Donia?" Alia glanced her way.

"Correct, sir," the other Navigator confirmed. "In addition, the Maverick presence in the ruins of Las Vegas has increased dramatically. Satellite coverage has confirmed a great deal of construction equipment present. It's highly likely that they intend to rebuild the city into their own permanent headquarters, separate from that of the Faithful." She made a wry face. "Can't say I blame them for that, personally. _I _wouldn't want to share quarters with _those _freaks even _if _I was a Maverick."

"It does seem prudent of Sigma," Signas agreed. "Which is hardly a surprise. Very well. We will decide our next course of action once I have consulted with world leaders. For now, all Units not on guard duty should rest and recuperate."

"That goes for you as well, sir," Simon piped up. The old man had aged visibly overnight, his once-cheerful face now as tired as any other in the room. "Like Lifesaver told you, you need your stasis as well."

"I am aware," Signas agreed. "And I intend to, once I finish one more task. I promise, it won't take long. X, you..." He glanced at him for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. "Lassiter, you have the command until my return."

"Sir." The Captain of the 00 Unit saluted.

"Are you turning in?" Alia asked X as they both watched Signas leave the War Room.

"In a moment," he replied, waiting for her to stand before they both followed along. "I want to watch this."

"You too, hm?" Simon murmured, coming as well. "I just wish there was more I could contribute."

"There will be, in the days ahead," Alia assured him. "Negotiations with other nations after today are likely to be... complicated."

"Oh, I'm sure they will," Simon agreed. "But to be perfectly honest with you, I think that will be the least of our concerns." Neither X or Alia could argue with that, and they followed Signas the rest of the way to the front of the building in silence.

"Commander Signas." King turned his head to greet him as he emerged. The leader of Mecha had been waiting, standing before the front doors as newsies swarmed before the steps, kept back only by the line of grim-faced Hunters blocking them off. "Is it over, then?"

"It is," Signas told him, stepping up to join him there; X, Alia and Simon remained inside the lobby, watching through the transparent plasteel doors. "Let's begin. I grow weary."

"As do I." King slowly nodded. "By all means." The excited buzz of the press was dying down, sensing what they'd been waiting for. Nodding to them, Signas cleared his throat before speaking into a standing microphone, voice pitched to carry as far as possible.

"This message is being broadcasted live to every nation on Earth. My name is Signas, Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and I am here to tell the world the truth of the disaster which now threatens it, and all of us who live upon it. Though some of the facts still remain muddled, even to us, we will share all that we know, and all that we learn throughout the course of this war which has erupted. Rest assured that that is not all we intend to do, but it is a beginning, and it is best that the truth be known.

Yesterday, at three forty-eight PM, Tokyo Time, Doctor Wily announced his return. To the best of our knowledge, it is genuine. We do not know how he has managed to survive, but the evidence to support the validity of his claim stands horrifyingly apparent. Having formed an alliance with Sigma and the Mavericks, he has launched a campaign of complete global extermination. Chicago, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Bucharest and Mexico are all testament to the reality of the situation at hand, as those were the first locations targeted by enemy forces.

We have spent the last thirty-one hours evacuating as many citizens of all five locations as possible, aided by those who were willing to fight alongside us, most of whom gave their lives in the defense of others. Unfortunately, an actual victory was impossible, due to the sheer number of the forces arranged against us, but millions of lives were saved regardless. It is small consolation, a tiny victory against a greater defeat, but it is at least one victory, nonetheless. Moreover, we did not fight alone. Others were willing to stand against us, and still are."

"Indeed we are," King agreed, as Signas glanced to him. "People of Earth, my name is King, Son of Wily and ruler of the Robot Masters. For nearly a century now, my people have lived in the hidden city of Mecha beneath the earth, fleeing the atrocities of 2090 to dwell in secrecy. That time is past. My father has returned, and I know him, as I did when I was young. He and his partners will not stop until they have succeeded in their mad ambitions, unless they _are _stopped. It is in the pursuit of that goal that I have united my forces with those of the Maverick Hunters.

We will fight, people of Earth. Though the odds against us are more dire than in any Robot Rebellion or Maverick Uprising ever before, we will fight. All that we ask of you is that you join us, that you do not give up hope and surrender to death. That you do not go gently into that good night, for we do not intend to, and we will lay down our lives with that in mind. This war will last many years, and we do not know what will remain when it is done, but no matter how long it takes, no matter how many of us perish, _we will fight_.

Those of you who are capable of doing so as well, we ask for your aid. Make no mistake, the enemy desire nothing from you but death or enslavement, for you and all of those you love. Do not accept this. They are mighty, and they are terrifying, but do _not _surrender hope and life. So long as a single Maverick Hunter or Robot Master remains, we will continue to defy them, and in the end, we will succeed. We have survived war before, war and Robot Rebellions and Maverick Uprisings and worse. We will survive this." And then he raised his ax in the air above his head, as Signas drew his beam foil and did the same.

"People of Earth, do _not _surrender to despair," he commanded them. "Human, reploid, Robot Master, it makes no difference any more. _Stand__ with me, _against the rising darkness."

"Not bad," X murmured quietly as the newsies exploded, babbling questions once more.

"Are you going to go out there?" Simon asked him. "It would help."

"No." X turned away. "I'm nobody who should be inspiring anybody. I'm not a hero, and I'm not a leader. They are. I'm just an old soldier who's facing down one last war."

"Then what are you going to do?" Alia asked him quietly.

"For now?" He met her eyes, and there was something in his that she didn't know, which hadn't happened for a very long time. "I'm going to go into stasis. Then I'm going to call up Countess and ask her to make me another shot of that silver bullet of hers. I'm going to need it." He turned away. "And then I'm going to do what they said. I'm going to fight."

She started to say something more as he walked away, then paused, and finally lowered her eyes. Simon remained silent as well, as he left her behind, and she made no moves to follow, despite how much she wanted to. She simply stood there, listening to the noise outside, as the last traces of the world she had known slipped away, never to return.


	12. Chapter 10: World On Fire

_**Chapter 10: World On Fire **_

**Duo's Log 007 **

**940 Earth Days since departure **

My journey continues, as fruitlessly as ever. As of this moment, I have finished searching all other planets in Earth's solar system, more out of thoroughness than out of any real belief that one of them might be my goal. As I expected, none of them show any signs of being the birthplace of my kind, and soon I will continue beyond the range of Earth's sun into galaxies unknown to them, where I once traveled before. When I was younger, and still among my own kind, before the final battle which left me alone in the darkness.

I find myself nostalgic, at the moment, for both my own kind and for those who I only met after their destruction. In my first log, I promised to tell of my experiences on Earth with the humans and robots who lived there, some of whom still do. Now is as good a time as any, especially since I find myself dwelling upon those memories. Not all of my experiences there were pleasant ones, but those that were made up for the others, and I look back upon them with fondness even as I regret that they will never return, for neither will I.

There is nothing left for me to return to, now.

When I awakened on Earth, after my fall, I found myself in surroundings unlike anything else I had ever seen, though they were common to those who were native to the planet. I had lived a life of travel among the stars, and so the notion of a permanent residence was alien to me. Thus, opening my eyes and finding myself in a laboratory on the second story of a suburban home caused confusion and disorientation more than anything else, especially considering that my last memories had been of my battle's conclusion.

I later learned that the building was the home of those who had rescued me and repaired me following my rather unceremonious collision with Earth. An elderly human named Doctor Thomas Xavier Light, and his four children, all robots like me. I would come to know them all well in future days, but due to poor luck, my initial awakening came at a time when I was alone in the lab, the good doctor asleep and his children in stasis. Had one of them been there to explain matters to me, I would not have reacted quite as I did.

My only defense is that my actions were not caused by my own volition, but rather as a reaction to what I immediately sensed was also within that strange room containing so many things I had never seen before. Though I had been retrieved by Dr. Light's second son, Rock "Mega Man" Light, the carcass of my hated nemesis had been taken from our landing site by one as unlike my saviors as night is to day. Doctor Wily, once partner and close friend-as close as brothers-to Dr. Light, now degenerated into madness that made even my enemy's malice pale in comparison.

Eventually, they told me of Wily's dark deeds, of the history he had written in blood for himself with his Robot Rebellions. It was the Eighth of them that my arrival heralded, for though my enemy was dead, his power source remained intact. Such was Wily's lunatic genius that he was able to analyze and replicate it, using it to power his latest generations of Robot Masters. Fortunately, even with that strength, Rock Light was able to destroy them as he had in every Robot Rebellion before, bringing their power sources back to his father for analysis.

I was unaware of any of this when I awakened, of course. All that I knew was that I could sense the evil energy of my nemesis no more than a few feet away from me, thankfully contained. But that was not the only source I sensed; others were still active, still using that vile power, and I was aware of those as well. Furious beyond logic at the discovery that my battle had still not ended, I destroyed what Mega Man had collected before breaking through the wall of their home and immediately setting off in search of what I believed to be my enemy's work, for in my ignorance, I believed him still to be alive. Still spreading his contagion, despite all my efforts.

As a side note, I _did _apologize to them for the damage to their home eventually.

At the moment, however, my thoughts were occupied solely by the conflict I believed to be ahead of me. Such was my anger and determination that when Rock Light followed me, I attacked him, believing that he intended to stand in my way. Though my power was clearly superior, I discovered to my surprise that this small, unassuming warrior in blue who bore the appearance of a human child no older than twelve was fully my equal in combat. No... perhaps he was even greater. I will never know, for our fight was interrupted before its conclusion.

Once I had learned of my errors, I agreed to cooperate with the strange robots of this world who sought to end the slaughter caused by their own kind. Together, I fought alongside Rock Light as well as his brothers, Blues and Auto. With our combined strength, we were able to eradicate all traces of my enemy's dark power than Dr. Wily had replicated, and bring the Eighth Robot Rebellion to an end. Though the madman escaped, our victory was clear, especially in my case. At last, all traces of the violet power were gone. My fight was over.

I departed that world then, for the first time, returning to my journey through the stars, but something had changed due to my time on Earth. I was no longer the same as I had been before, and no matter how diligently I attempted to focus on my task, my thoughts continually drifted back to that blue planet and those who lived upon it. The people who were like, and yet so unlike, my own kind, the only other sentient lifeforms I had ever encountered aside from mine and my enemies. It continued to nag at my thoughts, despite my best efforts.

Eventually, I conceded the obvious. Though my search for my people's homeworld was still of monumental importance, I now had yet another task, one equally necessary. I wished to learn of what it truly meant to have thought and emotion, to possess free will, and for that I needed to speak with others who also shared such things. Using my power, I returned to Earth, transporting myself through space as easily as the natives of Earth would walk from one place to another. I could only hope that my arrival would be welcomed.

To my delight, I was greeted as a friend upon my return. Announcing my intentions, I was promised that and more by those who had fought with me, and those who supported them. For the first time in my life, I had something of a home, though I knew it would not be permanent, the guest room in Doctor Light's house. I spent months there, learning as much as I could of both humans and robots, though many things were strange beyond my ability to describe them. Of history, of technology, of philosophy and religion... and most of all, of friendship and family.

They were the closest friends I have ever had, even more than my own kind before that terrible conflict, and I came to know them all during my time on Earth. Doctor Light, impossibly cheerful and eternally hopeful despite the many horrors that he had survived throughout his entire life. Rock, a living exercise in contradiction, his two sides almost impossibly opposed, the warrior and the child. Blues, the independent wanderer who returned home at seemingly random intervals to spend a week or two with his family before departing once more to continue his journeys.

Roll, their sister, the only child of Light who I had not met previously, a fiery girl whose quick temper masked her deep concern for those she loved. Auto, free-spirited and exuberant, by far the youngest and most extroverted, constantly confusing me with his attempts to educate me in what he referred to as "pop culture." Rush, Beat and Eddie, the household "pets," who possessed just as much personality as their owners despite their more primitive design. Even their "cousin" Bass, the renegade son of Wily, would occasionally stop by, though his intentions were often-but not always-violent.

They were my friends, and I came to know them all well during my time on their planet. It was the happiest time of my life, and if I could have one wish, it would not be for the end of my mission. No, my greatest wish is simply to be able to return to that planet and live with my friends once more. Sadly, that wish is only a dream, for reasons that I will elaborate on at a future date.

For the moment, I would prefer to remember my time on that planet without dwelling upon its tragic end, one I could do nothing to prevent despite all my power.

**August 5, 2185, 9:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"All right, that'll do for now," Oscar "Pitbull" Hayes, Captain of the 13th Unit, grunted as he rose from the weight machine he'd been using. Toweling himself off briefly, he took a swig from his water bottle. "Thanks."

"Just returning the favor, boss," his spotter, a blonde, burly a ten-year veteran of the 13th named Harold, replied laconically. "Done here, then?"

"Yeah, we'll be shipping out soon anyways," Pitbull told him, standing up and stretching; there were a few more creaks and cracks than when he'd been younger, but as long as everything still worked, he could live with that. "Soon as the big man decides just where to send us off to next, which should be any time now."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." Harold chuckled as they left the weight room located in the 13th's barracks; reploids obviously had no use for such things, which was why Pitbull's grandfather had needed to have one put in more than sixty years ago. "Sitting around base twiddling our thumbs never was our style."

"Damn straight it wasn't." Pitbull nodded. "Not that anybody's doing much of that, these days. Go spread the word, huh? Make sure everybody's ready to go."

"Doubt it'll be necessary, but I'll run a check just in case," Harold agreed as they reached Pitbull's quarters. "See you in a few, boss."

"Yeah, yeah." Punching in his passcode, Pitbull walked inside, keeping his back straight until it had closed behind him. Only once he was sure nobody was looking did he allow himself to slump over, grimacing at the pain racing through his back. He'd taken care of himself, at least as well as any soldier could, but the fact of the matter was that he was coming up on his fiftieth birthday, and most humans in the Hunters got out after forty at most. His family had always been an exception, of course, but that didn't help much at moments like these.

After a moment, he forced himself to straighten up again, walking over to his medicine cabinet and downing his usual dose of painkillers. From there, he made his way to where his armor was kept, red and orange metal molded to fit his body. He wore it whenever possible around base, both for reasons of appearance and because it took some of the strain off of his spine; Lifesaver had modified it with that in mind, to Pitbull's eternal gratitude, as well as agreeing to keep the secret of his weakness from his men.

Humans might not have been as durable as reploids, but they _could _wear the same protection over their bodies, as long as they had the strength to actually carry it, which was why the weight room was necessary. Weapons were another story; without any possibility of unique, built-in custom features, humans had to go standard. Busters, magweaponry, or Pitbull's personal favorite, beam weapons. Sighing in relief once he'd finished pulling his armor on, he walked over to a closet and opened it up, retrieving the orange beam axe that had been his family's pride for longer than he'd been alive.

"Near thirty years in service," he muttered to himself, idly stroking it; deactivated, it was nothing more than a metal pole with emitters on opposite sides at one end. "And here I am, still plugging away. Can't believe I'm still alive." His musing was interrupted by the beep of an incoming call in his ear, and he raised a hand to his helmet. "Pitbull. Talk to me."

"_Well, I _was _going to just stay quiet and breathe heavy into the line, but if you insist, who am I to deny you?_" Donia replied sardonically. "_Any__thing __in __particular you want to hear me say, big guy?_"

"Plenty, but you're too young for me, more's the pity," Pitbull shot back. "How about you just let me know what us poor grunts are in for and get it over with, huh?"

"_Fine, then,_" she said, her voice mock-offended. "_Be a spoilsport. You and the 13__th__ are headed off to London to join Ganesheriff and the 30__th__. Seems some of the bad boys are on their way, but if you don't take too long, you should get there with plenty of time to spare. You're cleared to depart at 1200 hours._"

"All by ourselves?" He asked, keeping his tone light. "Mind placing a bulk order for some coffins, then?"

"_You wish,_" she teased. "_Prince is already heading your way, and he's got thirty of his boys with him. Poor kid has no idea what he's in for._"

"That makes two of us," Pitbull admitted. "Never worked with Mecha in the field before, except for those first couple of days, and those don't really count. Don't go losing no sleep over the kids, Donia. We'll go easy on 'em."

"_That doesn't mean much, coming from you,_" she pointed out.

"Nope," Pitbull agreed, smirking. "All right, I'm gonna go say hi. Talk to you again once we're on site."

"_Don't go dying before you even get there, now,_" she told him before cutting the connection.

"Always gotta have the last word," Pitbull grumbled as he walked back out of his apartment, adjusting his helmet. Stifling the urge to mutter a gender-specific followup to that observation, he turned to his right and headed towards the 13th's designated departure area. He was pleased to find all thirty of them waiting for him, all armed and armored like he was, waiting for his arrival so that they could get going.

Each individual Unit of the Maverick Hunters had its own personality and characteristics, in a way, one that was often developed in correlation to whatever that Unit's specialties were. Mutt Unit, as the 13th was called, was no exception. A motley crew of bastards and bruisers, hard cases and hatchet men, many of them ex-cons or worse, they were scattered around the room at seeming random without even trying to pretend at any semblance of order.

Men and women, human and reploid, young and old, the only thing they had in common was a clear air of menace around them as apparent as the scars each and every one of them bore. Out of all the Units in the Hunters, the 13th had the highest turnover rate, and the knowledge that their lives would be even more nasty, brutish and short than most of their comrades had left its mark on all of them. They were the most violent and unruly Unit of them all, even more than the notoriously savage 00, and that was the way Pitbull liked them.

"Yo, boss!" Shrike, a lean, sharp-featured woman in her early thirties with her hair dyed white in stark contrast to her blood-red armor, called over from where she was squatting in a corner, rolling dice with a couple the others. "We getting out of here?"

"Soon enough, you mugs," Pitbull told them, resting the shaft of his beam axe across his shoulders and waiting for the cheers and hollering to die down before he continued. "Settle down, already, huh? We gotta wait until our new buddies get here so we can all say hi before we ship out to reinforce the 30th."

"New buddies?" Harold glanced over from where he was leaning against a wall, arms folded; he'd put on his armor as well, charcoal-colored and blocky. "We getting some backup from down below for this one?"

"That's right." Pitbull nodded. "Mecha's finest, led by _numero dos_ himself. Anybody got a problem with that?"

"You kidding, boss?" Shrike asked him. "We've heard enough talk to know they can walk, and that's all that counts in this Unit. Human, reploid, Robot Master, what the _fuck _ever. As long as they can fight, they're good in our book." She smirked at the other women in the Unit. "Besides, having the Prince himself watching our asses? _Ooh_ _la la_, right, girls?"

"Poor bastard," Mike, a heavily built bruiser with multiple scars crisscrossing his face, muttered loud enough to be heard by everybody in the room, prompting a surge of laughter. Even Shrike and the other girls joined in, only for the mirth to vanish instantly as soon as the doors opened once more behind Pitbull.

"Ah," Prince murmured, looking around; Pitbull had seen him before, but they'd never actually met. "The 13th Unit, I take it."

"Yeah, that's us." Pitbull turned around, holding out a hand. "And you're the boys from Mecha, I take it."

"Indeed we are." Prince smiled, shaking his hand readily. "My name is Prince. I'm looking forward to working with you, Captain Hayes."

"We'll see how long you can keep saying _that_, kid!" One of the 13th hollered from the back of the room.

"None of that, you clowns," Pitbull shouted back without even looking. "Save it for later! All right, kid, you got everybody on your team with you? Bring 'em all on in here so we can get a good look at 'em."

"Very well." Prince glanced back over his shoulder before walking in, followed by a mob even more widely varied than Mutt Unit. Very few of the Robot Masters following him were of the same model, and even those that were had modified their appearances to differentiate themselves. Most of them were no more than four feet tall, though a few stood at the same height as any human or reploid, and while many of their eyes were vacant and mechanical, there were some whose gazes were sharp and keen instead.

"Not bad," another voice called from the back. "Looks like you should all be able to handle yourselves. Where's _your_ weapons, though, boss man? Don't see no buster on your arms, and you ain't packing anything else."

"My creator designed me so that I would be able to conceal them," Prince explained, reaching around behind his back. With an audible snap, he pulled a pair of short, single-bladed hand axes out, prompting appreciative whistles from several members of the 13th. "So that I would be able to blend in with humans without being identified as a reploid for most of my life thus far, yet still remain armed in case of a situation."

"Yeah, those'll do just fine." Pitbull looked the weapons over. "So long as you know how to use 'em, anyways. Plasma-deflective?"

"Of course." Prince nodded, putting them back. "Shall we depart, then?"

"In a moment," Pitbull told him. "Let's get a few things straight here, first, since we're gonna be working together for a while."

"Here it comes," Shrike commented, though the Robot Masters all kept their eyes on him, as did Prince.

"My name's Oscar Hayes, Captain of the 13th," he introduced himself, turning to one side so he could pace towards the wall. "What people _call _me is something else entirely, and that goes for all of you. I don't want no 'sirs' or 'captains' from you, so why don't you all just stick with 'Pitbull' like everybody else. I'm gonna go ahead and assume nobody needs me to explain just _why _I got that nickname, aside from the fact that they called my granddad 'Bulldog' back when he was running this Unit instead of me."

"You've probably heard by now that the 13th's got a nickname of its own, around base," he continued, turning around and continuing to pace towards the opposite wall. "They call us Mutt Unit, and that's on account of how we're a mixed breed. For more than sixty years now, we've been the only Unit in the Maverick Hunters that accepts humans along with reploids, myself included. There ain't many of us here in this operation, so one Unit's all we need, and it's more convenient for everybody to dump us all here. And if any of you are thinking that that makes us the weak sister of the Hunters, you better drop that thought right here and now."

"See, the thing is, we _are _weaker than reploids." He turned again, this time to face the Robot Masters. "Us humans. So if we want to survive the same conditions, that means we gotta be _damn _good at what we do, and we are. Take a good look at each and every one of us. Not too pretty, are we? But we're still alive, and that's what counts. If there's one thing everybody in Mutt Unit's got in common, that's what it is. We're survivors, all of us, no matter what we gotta do. We might not be the shiniest Unit, we don't do too well on the parade ground, but we get the job done."

"As you might have heard, we're headed to London. And if that damn bridge hasn't fallen down yet, I ain't putting my paycheck on that lasting to the end of the decade. Hell, maybe not even the year. The enemy have targeted the city already, and the only good news is, this time we saw 'em coming, so we'll be able to keep 'em out for a while. They've got some good defenses, and we'll have the locals backing us up too; they won't be good for much, compared to us, but we're gonna need all the help we can get, so no sense complaining that they're pansies.

Our job is simple. Hold 'em off as long as we can, and when we can't do that no more, at least get as many people out of there as possible before everything burns. Maybe if we're lucky, we _will _make it to the end of the year, but don't go holding out hope for more than that. Fact of the matter is, long term, we don't stand a chance. This here's a delaying action, nothing more, just like everything else in this shitty war up until now. That means anybody trying any sort of hero act is gonna answer to _me, _and trust me, folks, you _don't _want that.

The longer we last, the better the chance that somebody smarter than the lot of us goons will figure out some way to win this war, and somebody tougher than us will pull it off. But that hasn't happened so far, so it's up to us to buy the world some time until they do. It ain't much of a hope, but it's all we got. We might not be hero boys like X, but that's why we'll let him do his job, and we'll do ours, no matter how ugly it gets."

"_However!_" He pointed the business end of his weapon at them, as they continued to listen, silent and still. "That does _not _mean I want _any _of you going into this thinking like a martyr. I catch _anybody _doing that, I will _personally _beat it out of you, and if you think I won't, just ask my Unit! As long as we're working together, you are under _my _command just as much as Prince here, and I got the same priority one order for you as for anybody in my Unit. One word, and one word only." He let that hang for a moment, looking from one of them to the next, before finishing. "_Live_."

"Live?" Prince blinked, visibly surprised for the first time.

"That's right, kid." Pitbull put his weapon back across his shoulders again. "That's what separates the Hunters from the meat shields in this Unit. Whether or not you stick around. If you don't have what it takes, you're in the way, and I'm gonna give you all the benefit of the doubt and assume none of you are wastes of space. So don't disappoint me. Whatever happens out there, however it goes down, keep yourselves alive, all of you. Don't _ever _die on me, or I swear to god, whenever it is I end up shipping off to Hell, I _will _bust out just to hunt you down and make you regret it."

"He'll do it, too," Harold grunted.

"If you got any ideas about 'fighting fair,' ditch 'em here and now," Pitbull wound down, ignoring that. "You fight _dirty _in Mutt Unit, and that goes for anybody working _with _Mutt Unit just as much. As for civilians, if you can save 'em, then by all means, go for it. But don't go throwing your carcasses away on any lost causes. This war ain't gonna end when London falls, which means we're gonna need all of you punks for the next round after that, and the next, and the next. So you'd better make sure you show up. Any questions?"

"Sir." A silly-looking pink and gray Robot Master with a ludicrous pair of hedge clippers atop his head raised his hand. "Some of us may not have a choice in the matter. First Law override."

"Yeah?" Pitbull spat on the floor. "Well, we'll just have to see about that. God knows we'll have time on our hands over there for it. Anybody else?" He waited for a moment, and when nobody else spoke, nodded sharply. "Good. That's what I like to hear, not that I get to very often with this pack of goons."

"Love ya too, boss," another call came from the back.

"All right, then," he growled, mentally filing away the names of all those who'd commented for later on; not that that would stop any of them, but examples were made for a reason all the same. "Let's get going. And if any of you are religious, toss a few prayers off while you can. I never put much stock in 'em, but we're gonna need all the help we can get."

**August 7, 2185, 9:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Commander Signas?" One of the MHHQ's staff called as he walked through the door to Signas' office.

"Ah, Tai." Signas glanced his way, grateful for something-anything-to distract him from what he'd been watching on his desktop projector. "Come in."

"Pardon the intrusion, sir." The reploid bowed; he was one of the many new volunteers that had flocked to the MHHQ in droves over the past few months, ever since the outbreak of the war, both those who were combat-capable and those who were not. Tai had been a government functionary in the city-state of Beijing before his change in careers, and while he was a good man, he was still acclimating to his new home and work. "I hope I am not interrupting anything too important."

"On the contrary." Signas shook his head. "I was contemplating the fact that, at that moment in time, I felt as if I truly understood straw nihilism more than ever before in my life."

"Sir?" Tai blinked. "Things are not _that _desperate yet, are they?"

"Oh, I wasn't talking about the war," Signas assured him, unpausing his projector. "I meant this Maverick propaganda commercial."

"Ah," Tai murmured, as they both watched several of the Mavericks' most infamous generals dance around, actually _singing _about the many benefits that Sigma supposedly offered in exchange for the free will of his minions these days. "In that case, sir, I recommend fire, and a great deal of it. How do they even keep getting these on the air? I doubt that anybody would be willing to sell _them _advertising time."

"Probably by however Wily manages to broadcast his speeches," Signas said with a sigh, shutting it off. "I'll grant you that the commercials aren't _quite _as bad as those, but even so, this is hideous, and there are more productive uses of my time. I assume there was something?"

"Yes, sir." Tai nodded. "The War Council requests your presence."

"Ugh." Signas grimaced. "I stand thoroughly corrected." After a moment's thought, he sighed and rose. "Very well. Return to your post."

"Sir." Tai saluted as they both left the office, turning to walk opposite ways down the hall. Soon, Signas reached his destination; a meeting room with the same design layout as that which was used by the MHHQ's top brass, though this one differed in that it was _not _one of the MHHQ's "dead rooms," a necessity of purpose.

"Gentlemen," he greeted those who were inside as he joined them, and the men and women seated around the table turned towards him. Forty world leaders, one for each of the nations that had still been independent before the return of Wily, gathered together in one final, desperate attempt at unity in the face of the end for all of them. Putting aside all old grudges and petty hatreds, they were now united by their common goal, the most simple at all; survival, for themselves and for the people they led. In theory, at least.

Those whose countries had already fallen to the enemy were just as welcome as those who remained; most, though not all, of the former were now residents of Tokyo, refugees who had been taken in by the Japanese government along with their people. Though their actual legal authority was in question with the collapse of their nations, for the moment, they were treated as they had been before, the matter of their future status deferred for if and when they would triumph against the forces bent on their universal destruction.

"Commander Signas," the current President of the United States, a fifty-year-old man named Leonard Largo, greeted him calmly. Like the others who still remained in their home nations, his presence was an illusion of modern technology, a holographic representation updated in realtime as he addressed those of the others from an identical room in his own base of operations deep beneath the Rocky Mountains. "Thank you for coming. As much as we prefer not to intrude on your time more than necessary, we _do _need you present at _some _of these meetings."

"Of course, gentlemen." Signas nodded to him briefly before taking his seat at the head of the table. Over the year since the war had begun, more than a dozen nations had followed Japan's example, placing the security of their nation and command of their military forces entirely under Hunter control. The most powerful among them still retained their authority over their own city-states, despite their full cooperation, but the question of how long they would continue to do so was an unspoken concern for all. "How can I be of service?"

"You already know that, Signas," Prime Minister Kakei told him sourly. "Brief us. How goes the war?"

"Poorly," Signas told him bluntly. "Of the forty nations remaining in the world since the first days of this war, ten have succumbed; five in those first dreadful days, and five more since. Of those that remain, nine are currently under siege by Maverick and Faithful forces, and a tenth will soon join them. A few hours ago, we dispatched the 13th Unit of the Maverick Hunters to London in order to join the 30th there, under the command of Captain Oscar Hayes."

"What?" Prime Minister Shepherd of Britain demanded, growing pale. "Why was I not informed of this attack?"

"You just were," Signas replied. "In addition, the hidden city of Mecha will be sending an equivalent force under the personal command of Prince himself, who is second only to King in their government. I advise that all British military forces extend their full cooperation to them as well as us during the approaching conflict."

"Now hold on just a second there, Signas," Kakei broke in. "Placing ourselves under your control is one thing. We might not always agree with Hunter policy, but even those of us who don't particularly like you personally will at least admit that you're trustworthy. These... _people _from this hidden city of yours are another matter entirely. Just because _you _believe their claims doesn't mean the rest of us are so trusting. Especially considering their leader is still a wanted mass-murderer himself! Have you forgotten that?"

"Don't be an idiot, Kakei," President Largo told him scornfully. "I'll admit I don't like it any more than you do, but the fact of the matter is that King is willing to fight for us, and right now we need all the help we can get. We're losing this war as it is. If we offend Mecha, any chance we have at all of winning-and more importantly, _surviving_-disappears along with them. It's not a matter of _liking _King, or his people. We _need _them."

"So we are supposed to just forget everything he has done?" President Torres of Brazil demanded. "Avert our eyes and pretend that the Ninth Robot Rebellion never happened? That this man, this _robot _that you wish to invite to these councils, that you wish to _accept _as a world leader with just as much status as those gathered here, was never responsible for the deaths of _millions_ himself a century ago?"

"Oh, come off it, Torres," Prime Minister Diefenbaker of Canada grunted. "You weren't even alive back then, so spare us all the self-righteousness. Besides, the way I remember my history, he was just another scapegoat for the bastard he-and more importantly, _we_-are fighting _right now_. That's good enough for me, and it damn well ought to be good enough for you." _That _did it; the room erupted in outraged shouts, a confusing babble that quickly became completely incomprehensible. After a minute or so of that, Signas stood abruptly and turned towards the door.

"What do you think you're doing, Signas?" Kakei shouted after him as the others turned their heads to stare.

"Using my time productively," Signas said flatly. "Send somebody to fetch me when you're done squabbling like children and ready to actually discuss matters productively. Until then, there are many more things I have to see to in addition to these meetings, and little time to waste on this sort of foolishness."

"How _dare _you!" Shepherd looked aghast. "You can't talk to us like that! We are the leaders of the free world!"

"And with every moment you waste, the chances of you remaining so grow slimmer and slimmer," Signas reminded him. "This is the greatest crisis the world has ever faced, and the odds against us grow greater with every passing day. I do not have _time _for this, ladies and gentlemen, and neither does the world."

"All right, all right," Kakei gave in as the room fell quiet. "Damn it, Signas, _fine. _You have us over a barrel, so we'll do it your way. But this heavyhandedness will catch up with you eventually."

"As long as there _is _an 'eventually' for it to catch up to me in, I am willing to accept that," Signas replied, sitting back down. "Personally, I consider Mecha to be an independent nation equivalent to those gathered here, but I will not insist upon King's presence. However, I will _not _tolerate any questioning of our alliance with them. As the President of the United States said, whether you like King-and his people-or not is irrelevant at this moment in time. Without them, we are lost. That is the reality of the situation."

"Are the Hunters alone insufficient to lead us against this threat?" President Arcian of France asked slyly. "I had thought that recruitment was at an all-time high. Was I misinformed?"

"You were not." Signas shook his head. "And that is what our numbers are increasingly becoming composed of, with every veteran we lose. Recruits, raw and inexperienced, fresh out of basic training into hell on earth. They flock to our banner to defend the world, and we teach them the bare minimum before assigning them to a Unit to replace our losses... and as likely as not, they die themselves within the month. Every experienced soldier replaced by a rookie is a permanent loss to our overall strength, even if our numbers still balance out."

"Have you considered adding more Units?" Premier Li of China, an unobtrusive, diffident woman in her mid-forties, asked calmly. "Thirty was sufficient before this war, but surely there are enough volunteers to expand that now?"

"Actually, it seems to be balancing itself almost perfectly at the moment," Signas said, forcing himself to remain calm and cold, as if the numbers they discussed were just that. Numbers, and nothing more, rather than men and women under his command dying by the score every time a city-state's walls came down and the final slaughter began. "Our losses and our recruits are roughly equal right now. We get enough new ones to keep all thirty Units at full strength, but no more."

"So you say, but then why are you only sending one additional Unit to our defense?" Shepherd demanded. "Why not two, or three? Where are the rest of them?"

"Twenty-five of the thirty active Units are, in fact, currently deployed in other locations across the world," Signas reminded him icily. "The 13th will be the twenty-sixth. The other four are our reserves in case the enemy launches _more _attacks, which they certainly have the numbers for. Should we commit all of them, then we might as well be inviting them to attack _us. _I trust I don't have to tell you what would become of the world should the Hunters fall."

"All right, all right, don't rub it in, Signas," Kakei told him. "We all know we need you, no matter how much we don't like it."

"As with Mecha, our personal preferences on the matter are irrelevant," Signas said, before smiling slightly. "Besides, I have fullest confidence in Captain Hayes and those under his command. You will not find them lacking, I assure you, Prime Minister."

"We'll see," Shepherd grumbled. "Just make sure you win, Signas. If London falls, I'm going to hold you personally accountable."

"I will take full responsibility," Signas assured him, eyes narrowed. "But _only _once the conflict is concluded. After the war, you may crucify me however you wish, ladies and gentlemen, but don't do anything to destroy us all before then."

"Do you believe yourself indispensable, Signas?" Torres demanded. "Are the Hunters so weak as to be lost without your leadership?"

"Feel free to ask any of them yourself, President," Signas told him coolly. "Any Hunter of your choice at all. I'm sure you'll be satisfied by their answer."

"That does bring up an interesting point, though," Largo murmured speculatively. "The Faithful seem to view Doctor Wily as their God, and their religious fanaticism seems to be genuine. That gives them strength, but it can be a weakness as well, especially considering how much time he spends on the front lines personally. Wouldn't removing him cause them to collapse? Surely you have snipers or assassins who could dispatch him."

"We've tried," Signas informed him, shaking his head. "More than a dozen times. He always seems to know, somehow. Keep in mind, gentlemen, that we're talking about the oldest, most experienced man alive. I'm not sure whether it's through some sort of technology we are unaware of-use of satellite surveillance on a level beyond us-or simple awareness honed through a life of conflict, but every time, he's known and acted before the shot could be taken."

"Well, he's on the front lines, like you said, isn't he?" Arcian pressed. "Wait until he's exposed, then launch an attack with all available forces."

"We have already tried that, as well," President Freidrich of Hungary, one of the fallen, reminded them somberly. "When the madman attacked my city. As soon as the counterattack was launched, he simply warped away and left his army to take advantage of the lapse in the defenses. Budapest was destroyed two days later, and my grief is not such that I wish to see others repeat that mistake and follow my homeland into the void."

"There is another factor to consider as well," Signas pointed out. "Even if such an attempt were successful, Sigma would simply infect the Faithful, and that may very well prove even more disastrous. The Maverick Virus' power seems to increase along with the number of victims it controls. It is already producing new strains, more dangerous than ever before. Should it gain control of the Faithful as well, no power on earth would be able to stop it. In order to succeed, both Wily _and _Sigma must die, and for good this time... and most likely, the one named Omega as well."

"Easier said than done," Kakei snapped. "Kill Sigma? Permanently? And how exactly do you expect to do that? Your precious Mecha's 'Silver Bullet' certainly hasn't been very effective."

"I have no answers for you, ladies and gentlemen," Signas told them somberly. "I can promise you no miracles, and there is no solution readily at hand. All I can do is defend us, so that we can survive until the day when one may present itself."

"That's all, Signas?" Largo raised his eyebrows. "Fight an entirely defensive war? Just hold out as long as possible and hope somebody thinks of something? That's all you plan on doing?"

"If anybody present can think of something better, the Maverick Hunters would gladly welcome your assistance," Signas said firmly, standing again. "If that is all, ladies and gentlemen?" None of them said anything further, and with a brief nod, he left the room, returning to his office. As soon as he shut the door behind him, his desk rang, signaling an incoming call on his private line. Unsurprisingly, it was Kakei, and Signas took it after disabling all monitoring devices in his office.

"How did I do?" The Prime Minister asked him anxiously. "Do you think any of them have caught on yet?"

"Doubtful," Signas assured him. "You're doing fine. Just keep on acting as my most vocal critic, but don't ever actually do anything to hinder the war effort, and the rest who don't care for me will follow your lead."

"I will," Kakei agreed, his voice growing more somber. "You know where this is going to end, though, Signas. Eventually, they're all going to have to give in and do what those of us who see more clearly already have. Offending them won't make that any easier."

"I will not believe that until I see it," Signas told him sharply. "I do _not _desire that outcome, Prime Minister."

"But what will you do when you don't have any choice in the matter, Signas?" Kakei reminded him quietly. "Any more than any of us?"

The Commander of the Maverick Hunters had no answer for him.

**August 17, 2185, 9:00 AM **

**New Delhi, India **

There was beauty in destruction.

In truth, it was the only beauty Omega was capable of seeing, let alone of understanding. Lesser beings could find it in other things throughout their lives, in whatever it was that they valued, or even simply put sufficient interest into. But Omega was not like them. For him, destruction and death were all that mattered to him, and so they were the only things he could find beautiful. Not always, of course; much of the time, the absolute obliteration he carried with him was nothing more than a result of his very existence. But sometimes, it was different. Sometimes, it was wonderful.

The sight of the wall around New Delhi finally being breached by the combined forces of the Mavericks and the Faithful was one such thing.

They had been there for two months now, two months in which Omega had patiently waited for this moment. Now that the world knew of their existence, there would be no more surprise attacks such as those with which they had announced their return. The people of New Delhi, led by their enemies of the Maverick Hunters and Mecha, had repelled their assault since their arrival, once they had triumphed over the equally formidable city-state of Budapest. New Delhi would be the third city whose end Omega would personally cause, and he anticipated it with something almost akin to emotion.

Of course, he was not alone in that sentiment.

"_Now, my Faithful!_" God's voice rang in their ears, transmitted to each and every one of them from inside the gigantic war machine hovering at Omega's side. "_There before you stands our doorway! Enter, and bring them God's blessing!_" The armies of the Faithful roared their agreement, and the Mavericks joined them with a scream equally great. Only Omega remained as silent as always, showing his response to God's command by moving forward. Twice before, he had led the attack, and he had no intentions of breaking that pattern now.

Already the defenders were moving to respond to the breach, one caused by a bomb that the Faithful had managed to attach and detonate after weeks of failed attempts. Rather than fleeing their impending death, they rushed to it, filling the gap with rank after rank, all armed and armored. Raising their busters and their magweapons, they prepared to fire, doubtlessly aware that their lives would be forfeit no matter how many of the Faithful they took with them into the void, and caring nothing for that fact.

It was a sentiment that Omega approved of, almost as much as he appreciated their eagerness to assist him in his own goal, for by coming to him instead of fleeing, they made his task all the easier. And so he chose to spare them the suffering that would otherwise await them at the hands of the Faithful. Drawing his blade, he struck, even faster than they. Even as the first shots of plasma and gunfire began, he swung horizontally, cutting the air itself. Though even his incredible strength could not completely penetrate the mighty defensive wall that held the wasteland at bay, that wall had fallen.

There was a moment of absolute stillness and silence, one in which even the Faithful and the Mavericks were breathless with anticipation. The defenders were equally quiet and motionless. And then, as one, they screamed as they apart, more than two-thirds of them slain in that single blow, chopped in half. A few of the Faithful howled as well, having been unlucky enough to have been standing between Omega's attack and the defenders, but he paid them no mind; his purpose was fulfilled by their deaths as much as by the enemy.

"_Oh, very well done, my son,_" God exulted. "_Continue, and show them your reason for existence. I have heard that that is why all true warriors raise their swords, and I would not deny you that honor. Go, and let your name guide you!_"

Omega simply nodded to God, once, before he led the Faithful forward through the opening in the wall, and the slaughter began in earnest. None could stand in his way, no matter how strong or skilled; ever since he had met the one named King, none had even come close. There were no true opponents to be found here, nothing even resembling a challenge, no matter how many there were.

Numbers were meaningless to Omega, in battle. All was meaningless save for the truth of his existence. And on that day in New Delhi, he brought that truth to men and women, young and old, humans and reploids and robot masters all alike, and their city along with them. _All_ perished beneath his blade, and the fires that consumed the destroyed buildings grew greater and greater as more of the city fell under their assault. They had not come to occupy, or to conquer. They had come to ruin, and ruin was what they left in their wake.

God himself was no less enthusiastic in carrying out his own will than his greatest servant. He no longer stood at Omega's side, save on rare occasions; most of his time these days was spent inside his personal chariot, the latest and greatest of what Omega knew had once been called his 'Wilymachines.' How they had first gained such a ridiculous name, Omega knew not and cared not. All that he thought of was the vessel's capacity for carrying out Omega's purpose, and in that regard, he was more than satisfied.

The main body of the Wilymachine's mass was a bubble of plasteel, covering the machine's core, a separate vessel that plugged into the larger one in order to activate and control it, though the smaller one was also capable of operating independently. The plasteel was a new alloy created by God himself, one that was completely transparent from the inside, yet an opaque blood red on the outside, allowing God to see through it without being seen himself. Omega was fairly sure that was a good thing, though he lacked the imagination to understand why exactly it was.

Most of the rest of the machine's body was built to carry it, a dozen different jets at different points around its framework suspending it in the air, more than half of them technically redundant; only if more than that were destroyed would the vessel's flight capabilities be in any danger. The rest of it was composed of its weapons systems, plasma cannons and missile launchers mixed with highly mobile blades on armlike extensions and tentacles meant to constrict and crush. Flamethrowers, cryogenic gas and electrical emitters all acted together under God's command, bringing death.

In the end, New Delhi fell, as Omega had known it would. It seemed that the Maverick Hunters and the men of Mecha had known it as well, for as soon as the wall had been opened, defending the city had become only a secondary priority for them. At that point, they had begun evacuating, as they always had before, bearing as many of the fearful citizens away with them as possible to other city-states that had yet to fall before the Mavericks and the Faithful. Omega cared nothing for that; sooner or later, all would fall, and how long it took was meaningless to him.

They continued the slaughter all throughout the day, as well as the night, and the next day after that. By the second evening following their entry, it was finished. The last few pitiful pockets of resistance scattered throughout the city had been overwhelmed, and what they had protected had been razed, those who had been unable to escape crushed. Everything was destroyed, the city that had once been a shining star of India now nothing more than ruins. Soon, all too soon, the wasteland would absorb it as well, burying it beneath the endless sands like all the rest.

"_Wonderful, isn't it?_" God asked as the two of them hovered above the highest point in the city, gazing out over their handiwork together, father and son. And Omega nodded slightly in agreement, for wonderful it was. Before God could speak further, however, they both noticed a group of the Faithful approaching, bearing one who was not among their number with them. A reploid in brown and gray armor, his features defeated and resigned, roughly shoved ahead of them as they approached, his arms bound by magnetic cuffs.

"_And what is this, my Faithful?_" God asked, not deigning to emerge from his machine, as they stopped before the two of them. "_Who is this unbeliever who you have brought before me and my son in our hour of triumph?_"

"One of the enemy commanders, sir," a Faithful explained, sneering. "He holed out in a troublesome location, but when all of his men were gone and he alone remained, he agreed to surrender his life so long as we would allow him to meet God in person before his death. We considered his request to be acceptable."

"_And you did not consult with me before agreeing?_" God murmured. "_You did not gain my permission to bring this one into my presence?_" Before the now-frightened speaker could reply, he continued. "_No matter. We will discuss your presumptuousness later. For now, I will grant this poor fool's final wish. You wished to meet me, young man?_"

"Indeed I did," the Hunter replied, not looking up. "My name is Jeremiah, Captain of the 27th Unit." His round, cheerful features turned wry. "Well, former Captain, I suppose. Commander Signas will be choosing my replacement soon."

"_Ah,_" God said quietly, his voice neutral. "_And now you have met me, Captain Jeremiah. Do you wish to repent, and ask for my blessing before we send you to join the rest of those who gave their lives today?_"

"Not quite." Jeremiah suddenly smiled, and then he was moving, both hands rising as the busters slid down his arms past the cuffs. Even as the startled Faithful riddled him with plasma and mag-fire, he released the power he had been building throughout the conversation. A double charged shot, in defiance of his own safeties, firing off both busters at maximum power simultaneously. Though the force of the blast ripped him asunder, both his arms ripped to shreds as he was blown in half, the massive blaze of plasma that emerged was larger than his entire form. Blazing, it rushed onwards, and not towards God, but Omega.

It was a threat. Even to Omega's body, the strongest in all existence, a double buster overload was still a threat. He remembered that, from one of the first who he had brought his purpose to, long ago in a different time and place. He had not yet been given his true form at that point, but he still remembered the pain and the damage caused by that final assault, as self-sacrificing as Jeremiah's had been. The chances that it would be fatal were minimal, but any chance at all was unacceptable, and so he brought up his sword before him, blocking it.

"Damn..." The man named Jeremiah croaked as the force of the blast tore Omega's sword from his hands, sending it flying wildly away to cut a bloody path through the ranks of the Faithful. "It was worth a shot..." And then he was still, and spoke no more.

"_You permitted him to come into my presence armed,_" God said. It was not a question.

"God..." the one who had spoken first did so again, trembling. "We... I..."

"_Your words are unnecessary,_" God informed him coldly. "_Omega._"

Without a word, Omega reclaimed his blade, uncaring of the plasma burns that now covered his hands and arms, and did as God wished.

"_Very good, my son,_" God told him once he was done. "_Very good, indeed._" He fell silent for a moment then before continuing. "_And yet... I sense your discontent, my son. Does something trouble you, despite our victory?_"

After a moment, Omega nodded, once.

"_I see,_" God replied. "_Yes... I believe I know why. You wish to fulfill your purpose in its _specific_ form as well as its general, do you not? You are wondering when you will finally be able to face _him_. The last of the five who you were originally created to destroy, so long ago. The final creation of my fallen friend Tom, the one who bore the dreams and hopes of all their family into the future. That is it, is it not, my son? Despite all of this, you can't help but wonder when the day will come. The day when you well f__ight__ Mega Man X_."

This time, Omega's nod came immediately, and much more emphatically.

"_Soon, my son,_" God assured him. "_All too soon, he will come, and then you will finish the work you began on that day a hundred years ago. In fact, let us do what we can to ensure that it will. You have guarded me faithfully, Omega, and for that I thank you, but it will no longer be necessary. Let the two of us go separately, when we leave this place, and lead our Faithful to two different locations. Perhaps then, he will seek you out. Yes... let it be so._"

For the first time since he had awakened, Omega smiled.

**August 21, 2185, 3:00 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

Ever since the declaration of war four months ago, everything had changed in Tokyo, and in the MHHQ most of all. No matter where you went, the overall mood was of tension only one step below panic, as if the fate of the world constantly hung on a few critical seconds. The fact that that attitude was, in all probability, entirely justified didn't particularly help. Regardless, the Hunters who had once casually walked down the halls from one place to the next now ran instead as often as not, and there was a great deal of shouting at any hour of the day or night.

Nobody particularly _liked _the change, for obvious reasons, but Lifesaver was even more disturbed by it than most. He had always been a thoughtful, quiet man with a great fondness for calm and order, and no matter how many times somebody almost ran him down in their haste to reach their destination, it never stopped irritating him. The MHHQ's Medical Officer now wore an angry scowl on his features half the time whenever he made his way through the halls, which at least served the purpose of ensuring his way remained mostly clear.

Most of the time, his destination was one of the few locations on base he habitually frequented; the Medical Bay, the War Room, the dead room where the top brass routinely met, or his own quarters. Sometimes, however, he had other places to be, even in this time of strife. So it was on this particular day as he marched down the halls, datapad in one hand and black bag of equipment in the other; the men he was joining would _probably _have everything he needed on hand, but there was no sense in taking precautions.

Lifesaver was not an introspective man, nor a particularly philosophical one. Such things had always been too speculative to him, and while he was intelligent enough to recognize their necessity regardless, he preferred to leave them to those more suited to them. His domain was science and logic, in cold hard fact, and that was what he had based his life and his duties around ever since he'd come to the MHHQ fifty years ago. Even now, with everything he had believed prior to the war in ruins around him, he held to that, and his assessment of the current situation was based in that same brutal honesty with which he had always expressed his beliefs.

The Hunters were doomed. Them, and everybody they protected, and the men of Mecha as well. But regardless of that, until that doom came, Lifesaver fully intended to carry out his duties to the letter for as long as he could. Until the final fateful day when the MHHQ would fall, he would continue to perform the same tasks he had devoted himself to for nearly all his life. And when that day came, he intended to fight and die with his comrades. Until then, however, he had his duty, and he had the skills with which he had earned his position. Today, those skills were needed.

Specifically, they were needed in the tiny corner of the base that had been reserved for the MHHQ's in-house coroners and morticians. A job that Signas had asked him to perform four months back, but which had remained comparatively low on his priority list until today, when he had decided he'd put it off long enough. There were still injured Hunters to see to-there were _always _injured Hunters to see to-but not so many that his staff required him personally. They could cope without him. And this job required the best.

"Hm?" The old man behind the desk grunted as Lifesaver opened the door, looking up angrily. "Oh. You." Adrian was the oldest human Lifesaver had ever met, older even than the legendary James Cain had been at the time of his death, and he had both an appearance and a temperament to match, but his skills were unparalleled and he'd always been loyal to both Signas as well as Cain before him. Lifesaver was one of the few who the bitter dodecagenarian considered a friend, which meant he actually spoke to him, though even then not much.

"Hello, Adrian," the doctor replied, closing the door behind him and smiling; in defiance of all logic, for some reason, he actually liked the fossilized mortician. "Have you had any other visitors today?"

"No," Adrian replied bluntly. "Why?"

"Doctor Hazil should be arriving shortly," Lifesaver explained, setting his bag down and taking the chair in front of Adrian's desk, which he knew for a fact to be the most deliberately uncomfortable one in the entire facility; Adrian had told him himself that he'd ordered it with that in mind. "I'm going to need his expertise shortly."

"Oh." Adrian gave him a penetrating look for a long moment, before nodding once. "That?"

"The staff can handle matters without me, at the moment, now that we've finished with everybody who made it back from New Delhi," Lifesaver told him. "And the longer I wait on this, the greater the chance that there will be another attempt. If there's anything to be learned from it, then it's time we did so."

"Think so?" Adrian frowned.

"To be honest, I'm unsure myself," Lifesaver admitted. "But it's a direct order from Commander Signas." He glanced around. "Where's Junior?"

"Off," Adrian explained laconically. "With his wife."

"Ah." Lifesaver smiled briefly. "Good. It's been too long."

"Like that for all of us now." Adrian shrugged.

"True." Lifesaver sighed, as the door opened again behind them. "And with little hope that circumstances will ever improve again."

"I was about to ask if this was the Pessimist's Anonymous meeting, but it looks like I don't have to," an even more gravelly voice than Adrian's joined the conversation as Lifesaver stood and turned to look into the weathered face of his predecessor. The two of them stood there for several moments, calmly scrutinizing each other, before the older reploid stuck out a hand, though his expression remained as sour as ever. "You must be Lifesaver."

"And you, Doctor Hazil," Lifesaver said quietly, shaking the offered appendage. "It's good to finally be able to meet you. I only wish that it could be under better circumstances."

"Don't we all," Hazil grunted. "And drop the doc. Just make it Hazil." He turned to the ancient human then, actually smiling as he continued. "Adrian, you old cuss. When they told me you were still kicking, I thought somebody had slipped me something."

"Mutual," Adrian shot back, and though he didn't quite smile himself, he wasn't scowling either, a rare sight. "Mecha, huh?"

"Yeah." Hazil scratched his iron-gray hair. "Tagged along with the rest of them. Turned out they actually needed me more than any of the rest."

"Good." Adrian nodded sharply. "Keeping busy."

"A little _too _busy, these days," Hazil grumbled. "So why don't we quit jabbering and get to work? They can work without me-at the moment-but who knows when that's going to change."

"An eminently practical suggestion," Lifesaver agreed, picking his bag up again. "Adrian?"

"Yeah." Standing, Adrian led the way into the back room, where he kept the vaults. Most of them lacked the cold storage necessary for human corpses, as very few of those ever came Adrian's way. Most of the bodies he dealt with were reploids, and needed no refrigeration, even without the fact that they were usually sent off to the incinerator on the same day they arrived. Of course, there were some exceptions.

"This one," the irascible mortician told them, stopping in front of a slab dated four months ago. "Anything else?"

"We'll be able to manage from here," Lifesaver assured him, and with a silent nod, Adrian departed, leaving the two of them there. Setting his bag down once more, he glanced at Hazil. "I'd heard you had a partner. Did he not accompany you?"

"Who, Horn?" Hazil shrugged. "He's more of an R&D guy. He can do medical if he has to, but it's not his specialty, so he and the kid stayed back in Mecha." Setting his own titanium briefcase down as well, he folded his arms and glared at Lifesaver. "Let's get a few things straight here before we go any further, now that we won't cause a scene."

"I'm listening," Lifesaver replied carefully.

"You piss me off," Hazil told him, eyes narrowing. "I've heard all about your career, buddy, and for the most part it's been exemplary. Not the way I'd do things, maybe, but you've done your job well all the same, and that's all that matters. That's the only reason I agreed to work with you at all, and as long as we keep it on that basis, we're not going to have any problems. We're both professionals, and we both know just how much personal opinions count for in situations like this, which is exactly jack shit. Just don't try to be all buddy buddy with me, and we won't have any trouble."

"I've never exactly been the most personable individual anyways, Doctor Hazil," Lifesaver shot back. "I find no issue with your _professional _opinion." When Hazil simply grunted in response to his jibe, he continued. "I must confess, however, I am curious as to what exactly I did to gain your ire, considering this is the first time we've met."

"You didn't do anything to me," Hazil explained grimly. "What you did was get one of my oldest friends killed. No... you got him worse than killed. You got him turned into that _thing _out there that slaughtered all those boys down in New Delhi the other day. The one that X is going to have to deal with, one of these days. So forgive me if I'm not giving you the Mister Rogers treatment."

"Ah, yes." Lifesaver looked away, as any trace of animosity drained away to be replaced by an all-too-familiar guilt. "Understandable, then. Very well."

"Glad you agree." Hazil scrutinized him for a moment before turning to the slab. "All right then, let's get down to-" He grimaced then, raising a hand to the side of his head. "Just a moment. This had _better _be good."

"I concur fully," Lifesaver agreed, doing the same as the buzz of an incoming call rang in his own ears. "Excuse me." Turning, they walked to separate ends of the room before he took it. "Yes?"

"What's up, Doc?" Donia greeted him.

"That's what I'd like to know, Donia," Lifesaver replied patiently. "I was about to begin something fairly important under Commander Signas' orders."

"Well, exuuuuuuuuuuuse me," she said, mock-offended. "As a matter of fact, it's the big man himself who wants a word. Should I tell him where to stick it, or do you want me to put him through?"

"The fact that you actually feel the need to ask that is slightly distressing," he told her soberly.

"Love you too, doc," she shot back. "All right, here you go."

"Lifesaver." Signas' voice replaced hers. "I hope the day finds you well."

"And you, Commander," Lifesaver replied. "May I be of assistance?"

"Do you recall the matter of which we spoke concerning that body we've been keeping on hand?" Signas asked him, and Lifesaver fought the urge to bring his hand to his face. "There seems to be a brief lull in the wounded. Perhaps now would be a good time to see to it."

"Actually, sir, I was about to begin when you called me," Lifesaver informed him, still keeping his voice calm. "Doctor Hazil and I are already down here."

"What?" Signas sounded startled. "I was unaware that..." He trailed off then, and a few moments later, continued, sounding slightly rueful now. "I see. I missed Doctor Hazil's arrival. My apologies."

"When was the last time you went into stasis, Commander?" Lifesaver asked him politely. "We've spoken about that as well, as you might recall. On several occasions, in fact."

"Two days ago," Signas admitted. "I suppose I should, but there is still far too much for me to do, and little enough time to do it in."

"Stasis, Commander," Lifesaver said firmly. "Pardon the insubordination, but you won't be much use to anybody if you burn out your control chip."

"No, I suppose not," Signas agreed. "Very well. I'll catch a few hours after I finish this current analysis."

"I suppose that's the best I'm going to get," Lifesaver murmured. "Very well, then. With your permission, I'll get back to work, Commander."

"I'm counting on you two, Lifesaver," Signas told him before the call ended, and Lifesaver made his way back over, as did Hazil.

"God save us all from leaders with martyr complexes," the other doctor commented.

"Amen," Lifesaver agreed, choosing not ask further, though he was fairly sure he knew who it was who had called him from that comment alone. "Shall we-" He cut off as his helmet buzzed again, at the same time as Hazil's face soured a second time. Exchanging a glance, they both sighed before turning and walking away a second time. "Donia, do you mind?"

"Hey, I'm just the messenger," the Navigator assured him innocently. "It's Douglas. Now, _him _I _could _tell to take a hike for you. Want me to?"

"Tempting," Lifesaver admitted. "But you'd better put him through."

"Hey, Lifesaver," the cheery voice of the MHHQ's Head Mechanic came through the connection without further commentary from Donia. "How's it going?"

"Busy," Lifesaver told him, more bluntly than he normally would have. "Was there something?"

"Uh, yeah," Douglas replied after a moment, and he immediately regretted his tone, but before he could apologize, the mechanic continued. "I just wanted to say thanks, for trying to save Fidget the other day."

"Oh." Lifesaver bit his lip. Fidget had been a field mechanic who'd been critically wounded in New Delhi, and despite Lifesaver's best efforts, his control chip had been unsalvageable. Sighing, he continuing. "You don't need to thank me for that, Douglas. I failed."

"You tried, though," Douglas repeated. "And me and the rest of the boys down here appreciate it. I just... wanted to let you know, that's all. I'll get out of your hair now."

"Douglas..." Lifesaver started to say, but he'd already cut the connection. Sighing, he walked back again.

"What?" Hazil asked bluntly as he did the same.

"I may have just alienated one of the few friends I have remaining to me," Lifesaver told him, shaking his head. "I only hope he'll accept my apology later."

"You too?" Hazil frowned. "Okay, this is just starting to get _dammit!_"

"Ridiculous," Lifesaver growled, his helmet buzzing a _third _time. "This is quickly becoming ridiculous." Again, they went their separate ways before he replied, voice now audibly angry. "_Donia._"

"You know what, I'm with you, actually," Donia assured him, sounding just as cranky. "It's X. And if anybody _else _bugs you in the next hour, I _will _take care of it."

"Lifesaver," X said a moment later. "I'll make this quick. I'm afraid we're going to need another medic over here."

"What happened to Moreau?" Lifesaver asked, his irritation vanishing instantly yet again.

"Fluid Ferret got him," X told him somberly. "The Ferret Freeze. His silver bullet wasn't enough to beat it. I'm sorry, Lifesaver. There was nothing we could do. We had to put him down."

"Very well." Lifesaver closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the years he'd spent working with his now-deceased subordinate, before continuing. "I'll send another medic within the day."

"Thank you," X replied simply, before ending the call.

"Think that'll be it?" Hazil asked once they were back in front of the slab.

"Wait for it," Lifesaver advised him, and they both did for several moments before he nodded. "It seems to be."

"Good." The older doctor turned to the slab and pulled it open, revealing the carcass it hid. "Let's get to work, then."

"Let us," Lifesaver agreed coolly, glancing over the dead body of Suzy, former Captain of the 8th Unit. Though her body still bore the wounds that had killed her, it was otherwise unchanged since her death, her features calm in a way that he found offensive for some reason. "And if there is anything we can learn, perhaps even a traitor will be of some use after all."

**October 1, 2185, 6:00 AM **

**Los Angeles, the United States **

There were some definite advantages to the Hunters' alliance with Mecha, Arvis noted silently to himself as he and his Unit waited in the darkness. The additional troops were the most obvious, of course, but there were others as well, such as their technology. Having gone their separate way from the world above a hundred years ago, the fruits of Mecha's research and development over that time period had proven useful time and time again. Their mole tanks, capable of transporting large groups beneath the earth, may not have been the most triumphant example, but they were definitely up there.

"How's it looking, Alia?" The voice of Mega Man X, Arvis' Captain, echoed quietly through the blackness.

"_They're all concentrating on pressing the attack, like we thought,_" the 17th's Navigator replied, connected to the entire Unit. "_They won't see this one coming._"

"And that's all we need," X said, softly but firmly. "Is everybody ready?"

"Could use a smoke break," an anonymous voice replied.

"Or a piss," another agreed, prompting chuckles from several other members of the entirely-reploid Unit.

"All right, enough clowning around," Arvis growled, stepping in before that got out of hand. "You heard the Captain. Anybody got any real problems?" When the room was silent this time, he continued, allowing a savage grin to creep across his face; X wouldn't have approved, but he couldn't see it at the moment. "Good. Let's go tear some faces off of those bastards out there."

"Flora, take us up," X told the Unit's vehicle specialist, who was sitting at the mole tank's controls. With a quick salute, the arboreally modeled reploid did as her Captain had commanded, and the mole tank's nose tilted upwards. Fortunately, due to onboard artificial gravity, none of them went tumbling towards the back; they simply waited until the tunneling noises from the front of the tank changed, signaling the breakthrough into open air once more. The door shot open, and X flew out like an arrow from a bow, straight into the fray.

They'd been stationed in Los Angeles for months now, and they'd fought well, but it was almost over. Damage to the walls had built up over the years, with any attempts to repair the exterior completely unfeasible, and it was approaching the point where a breach was inevitable. At that point, the Hunters would change from defense to evacuation; with the Mavericks and the Faithful able to pour in like a flood, it would be the only option left to them, just like every city that had fallen before during the course of the war.

The enemy, of course, had been able to tell what was coming just as well as the defenders, and had redoubled their efforts with a sick sort of anticipation. Arvis had heard both enemy commanders-one from the Faithful, and one from the Mavericks-waxing eloquent on the matter for the benefit of their troops, and every word had only increased his hatred for the freaks and fools who were hell-bent on destroying the world. That was part of the reason he'd anticipated today's strike, straight into the middle of the enemy encircling the city.

"Maverick Hunters!" One loudmouth screamed the obvious as Arvis and the rest poured out, following their leader. "They're pulling a-" He cut off as Arvis rushed him, taking advantage of his open mouth and ramming a live plasma grenade down it. In the same motion, he checked him in the gut with his other fist before turning the lunge into a sweep, slamming him sideways into a group of his comrades. They went down like bowling pins, but Arvis didn't take the time to witness the aftermath, turning away and firing off a charged shot at his next target.

As always, there was no chance of actually _winning_; thirty to a thousand was a losing proposition no matter _how _good you were. The intent of the strike was simply to disrupt and demoralize the enemy, to distract them from their near-triumph, and drag the siege of Los Angeles out a little bit longer. It irritated Arvis more than a little that that was all they could do these days, but he'd had time to grow used to the realities of the situation by now, and Arvis was nothing if not a realist.

"So, this is what you were up to!" A high-pitched, childlike voice shouted. Finishing off his current target, Arvis took a moment-and _only _a moment-to glance at the tiny leader of the Faithful on site. Childre Inarabitta, one of their "Disciples," an all-too-familiar face after months of war. Designed to appear less than ten years of age, the brat was actually crouching on the roof of the mole tank they'd arrived in, that stupid white cape billowing behind him. "I _thought _you'd be trying something soon! How sneaky, coming from the heroic Maverick Hunters!"

"There are no heroes, in war," X replied somberly, even as he blew another Faithful's head off. "Only mourners."

"Ha!" Inarabbita giggled wildly. "Wrong! By the time _this _war is over, _both _will be extinct!" Drawing his ice-blue beam saber, the tiny monster slammed it down into the mole tank's engine before leaping off of it, riding the force of the explosion through the air straight towards X. "I'm Childre Inarabbita, the Ocean Disciple! Allow me to show you the way!"

"Don't get involved!" Arvis barked to the rest of the 17th, lobbing another plasma grenade before a hail of fire slammed into him from the cluster of Mavericks he'd aimed at. Grunting, he fell to his back, smoking, but leaped to his feet before anybody could finish him off. "Let the boss handle the twerp!"

"Good advice, fat man," another Faithful said smugly, coming at him from the side with a beam saber as X and Inarabbita began trading blows. "You and your toy soldiers have enough to worry about yourselves!"

"Funny," Arvis shot back casually, the words coming to his lips automatically without any need for thought as he fired off a charged shot. The Maverick's attempt at blocking it with a saber slash failed miserably, the two halves of the plasma ball continuing forward to sear him anyways instead of being deflected, and Arvis followed it up with a sweep kick aimed at his ankles. The Maverick fell forward, managing to slash across Arvis' knee as he fell, but before he could rise or get another slice off, the Hunter brutally stomped his face-and control chip-in. "I ain't worried one bit."

"We're pinned down!" Meyer shouted from nearby, and Arvis glanced over to see him and Miriamelle surrounded by enemies.

"Coming!" Arvis turned towards them, only for Inarabbita to backflip over his head and land between him and them.

"Damn, you're good!" The Disciple hissed, half of his face a smoking ruin. "No wonder God considers you his greatest enemy! Maybe I should-"

"Outta the way!" Dashing towards, Arvis leaped, stepping off Inarabbita's head and stomping him into the dirt on his way towards Meyer and Miriamelle. Even as he did, he felt the Disciple's blade stab into his ankle in response, and stumbled, but kept going despite the intense pain; he wouldn't be using that dash boot again until it had been repaired, but he could still stand, run and jump on it. Without so much as looking back, he kept going, even as he saw Meyer fall beneath half a dozen beam sabers.

"That does it!" Inarabbita shrieked behind him. "Now I'm pissed! Time to show you all what you're really dealing with!"

"Hold on!" Arvis shouted to Miriamelle as Meyer fell apart in pieces. "And get down!" Draining one of his two Sub-tanks, he threw his last three plasma grenades into the cluster of enemies, then blasted a charge shot at one of the few not in range. When the explosives went off, only two of them were left standing, both of which their would-be victim finished off with a couple of precision shots, sending them falling to the earth. Their cries were silenced a moment later by her, as Arvis rushed to her side.

"All right?" He asked her, taking in the scorched and bloodied condition of her armor.

"Fine," she told him, glancing at Meyer once before shuddering and turning her eyes away. "Had a Sub Tank left."

"Good," he told her gruffly. "Come on, let's bag some more before we take-what the _hell_?"

"Come on, Hunter!" A deep blue rabbit-model reploid screamed, standing where Inarabbita had been, with the Disciple's voice. "Show me what you've _really _got!"

"All right," X replied as quietly as ever, his armor's color shifting to slightly darker shades than usual, the color of the weapon he'd copied from the Maverick General Dynamo, which he'd named the Second Shot. "That's fair enough."

"Well, at least his name actually makes sense now," Miriamelle noted as she and Arvis took down a couple more, each receiving a couple more light plasma burns from enemy Busters in the process. "The rest of them too, I suppose, if they can all do that. I always wondered."

"Focus on your problem," he told her gruffly, taking another shot and grunting when it missed. "Leave that one to him."

"_Get ready to leave soon, everybody!_" Alia warned them all. "_The rest of them know you're here now! We've got reinforcements coming in from both the east and the west, both Mavericks and Faithful, and Violen's leading them!_"

"Which side?" Arvis demanded, looking around quickly; almost idly, he pegged another Maverick with a charged shot. "Where's Violen coming from?"

"_East!_"

"I'll hold him off!" He told both her and Miriamelle, who nodded. "M, get some of the rest and back me up. A, remind everybody we're out of here as soon as the boss stews that rabbit!"

"_All right, but be careful,_" Alia warned him. "_You're good, but not as good as Violen is._"

"I know when I'm outmatched," Arvis assured her, charging off towards the east as he pulled up his own Master Weapons menu. No longer something that only those built with it could use, the Master Weapons System was now standard equipment for all Hunters, though the weapons copied from ordinary grunts usually couldn't compare to those of the generals. Even so, Arvis had picked up a few tricks, and he wasn't particularly shy about using them when necessary, despite only having had the ability for a few months.

Selecting one that turned his armor a deep purple, the Scatter Shot, he fired it off once he was sure there were no friendlies directly in front of him. A spray of uncharged plasma bullets erupted wildly from his buster, trading accuracy for quantity, completely aimless but far more numerous than he would have been able to squeeze out by himself. The Faithful before him flinched, and he shifted back to his Buster, charging a shot and firing it at a randomly picked target. Charging over him, he did the same with the next one after him, trusting his Unit to keep the rest off of his back.

"Well, lookie what we have here," the enemy general named Violen growled as Arvis came into sight of him; the massive, red-armored brute had been lumbering forward at the head of his reinforcements, but skidded to a halt as he saw the 17th's second-in-command rushing his way. "Who're you supposed to be?"

"Does it matter?" Arvis shot back.

"Heh!" Violen laughed once, before clenching his fists and sending his main weapon-the hideously massive morningstar resting on his back, ten feet across and connected to him by a tail chain-slamming down towards Arvis from above like a hammer. "Right to the point, huh? A man after my own heart!"

Waiting until the last moment, Arvis fired off his single working dash boot, propelling him to the side and out of the mace's path before returning fire with a charged shot. Again and again Violen attempted to smash him, and again and again Arvis dodged, until the brutish Maverick roared in fury and retracted the mace. Bringing his hands up before him, fingers spread and palms out, he fired off an attack similar to Arvis' first Master Weapon, tiny plasma bullets flying out wildly. Too close to dodge, Arvis was riddled, falling to one knee.

"What do you think of _that_?" Violen demanded, grinning hideously as he stomped forward.

"Dunno," Arvis grunted, shifting back to the Scatter Shot and giving Violen a taste of his own medicine. "You tell me."

"Gah!" Violen reeled, then snarled wordlessly and began using his tail mace again. This time, its moves were more erratic, bouncing wildly around in all directions instead of simply coming down from above. Even so, Arvis was able to stay one step ahead of it, much to the Maverick's frustration. "Dammit, how are you doing that?"

"Been up against you in the training room too many times," Arvis told him, firing off another charged shot.

"That so?" Violen suddenly smiled as the mace ball slammed into the dirt next to Arvis and remained there instead of bouncing off. "Know _this _one?" Before Arvis could get away, every spike on the sphere blasted out in all directions, piercing Arvis along with everybody else unfortunate enough to be close to the two of them, regardless of alignment. He went down again, this time flat on his face with his internal operations energy dangerously low, and Violen laughed. "X isn't the only old dog who can learn some new tricks!"

"_There!_" Alia shouted, as a shrill scream rang over the battlefield. "_X took his head! All Hunters, retreat immediately!_"

"You heard her!" Arvis roared, loud enough to be heard even over the battlefield, draining his last sub-tank even as he pulled himself back to his feet, turned and dashed away. "Everybody out!" Glancing over his shoulder once, he saw Violen's enraged face as the Maverick general realized he was to be cheated of his kill, and then he was hurling himself back into the tunnel they'd come in by, falling through the vertical shaft until he landed with a grunt. Around him, he saw the rest of the Unit retreating as well, and exhaled in relief; aside from Meyer, there were no missing faces.

"Everybody all right?" X asked as he arrive, last of all; the Second Blue Bomber bore his share of wounds, but carried Inarabbita's head under one arm. "Let's go! Blow it!" As they dashed down into the depths of the earth, out from under the entry hole, the mines that the mole tank had planted around the rim before emerging went off, collapsing the tunnel behind them. "Any casualties?"

"Meyer," Arvis admitted, puffing as they dashed away. "Sorry, X. I couldn't get to him in time."

"All right," X said softly after a moment, and the look on his face told Arvis he'd instantly accepted the fact of his subordinate's death in a way he never would have been able to when he was younger. Glancing at Jaken, who was the least wounded of the Unit for a change, their leader tossed him the head. "Put this on a spike on the wall when we return. He'll be back in a few days, but it should still have at least some effect. Then get medical attention. The rest of you, skip straight to that." He paused before continuing. "Good work, people. Rest up for a while."

"Get a new toy off of him?" Arvis asked him quietly as the rest of the Unit dashed ahead of the two of them, eager to get back to the city.

"Yeah." X nodded. "Looks like it's called the Icicle Spray. I suppose I'll get a chance to test it out soon enough."

"That's one thing we never run out of, all right." Arvis chuckled half-heartedly, before sighing. "All of our asses handed to us, Meyer dead... and all just to delay the inevitable a little bit more, and take out an enemy leader who'll just come back again no matter how many times we kill him. We're fighting a losing war here, X, no matter what anybody says about it."

"I know," X admitted somberly. "I wish I had a better alternative to offer you, Arvis. Something, _anything _that would actually stick. Unfortunately, there's only one possibility I can think of, and Signas isn't biting for that one. Until he does..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Arvis agreed. "Just hold on as long as we can, and hope somebody figures something out before the end, right?"

"Not much of a plan, is it?" His Captain, the man he'd devoted his life to following, smiled slightly, sadly.

"Nope," Arvis admitted bluntly. "But it beats the alternative. Come on, boss. Let's go get ourselves patched up too. They're gonna need us again soon enough."

**October 15, 2185, 6:00 AM **

**Las Vegas, the United States **

It had been a very long time since the city of Las Vegas, once teeming with light and life at all hours of the day and night, had seen the kind of activity it had been known for during the 20th century. One of the casualties of the Third World War, it had been ravaged by biological weapons that still made it unsafe for human habitation even more than a century later. Abandoned in the Nevada desert, the ruins of the once-proud city had become a symbol for the American people of what had been lost in that dreadful conflict, never to be reclaimed.

Ironically, it had only been after its downfall that a greater source of wealth than any amount of gambling could ever provide had been discovered. Sennet Robotics, one of the three great robotics companies of the age of Robot Masters, had detected massive deposits of Energen crystals beneath the abandoned city, which they had mined with their "Sparkplug" models, an action that had turned on them when the Robot Masters had been reprogrammed into the murderous "Spark Men" during the Third Robot Rebellion.

Once Mega Man had dealt with the problem, legal issues associated with Sennet's bankruptcy had prevented anybody else from taking control of the mines for decades. Only when the age of reploids had begun had the government of the United States moved into the Vegas mines, though like Sennet before them they had left the city above as intact as possible out of respect for the lives lost in the war. Following the fall of Eurasia, the mines had become isolated from all remaining American city-states, the reploids who labored there doing so at increasing risk.

Slaughtering them all had been child's play, and taking control of the mines even easier after that, but that had only been the beginning. While the Energen crystals were, of course, a great asset to their cause, what they had really come for was the city itself. A city still mainly intact despite centuries of neglect, one that humans could never return to, no matter the circumstances. There had been need of repairs and restoration, of course, but with their numbers, that was an easy price to pay. Now, months later, it was finally complete.

**This is a waste of time, **the Maverick Virus grumbled inside Sigma's head as he waited patiently for the elevator to reach the ground floor of the building he had chosen for the seat of his government. After carefully examining all of the once-great casinos-those that had remained in repairable condition, anyways-he had eventually decided on one designed to resemble ancient Rome, a monolith with the somewhat ostentatious name of "Caesar's Palace." After all, what better place for an emperor to reside?

"Come now," he murmured quietly. "If nothing else, the morale benefits alone are worth a few minutes spent on public display."

**Do I look like I care about their morale? **the Virus demanded.

"I really wouldn't know," Sigma admitted, smiling slightly. "Tell me, my dear Mab, what _do _you look like?"

**Remind me again why exactly I ****k****ee****p**** you ****around****, **she seethed after a moment of disgusted silence. **Quickly. **

"Because I'm the best," he said bluntly, without any trace of arrogance in his voice, simply stating a fact. "Because I'm the only one you currently have in X and Zero's league. And because you _know _it."

**Not forever, **she reminded him. **One day, Zero **_**will **_**be mine again, no matter what games my father plays. When that day comes, I may reconsider my choice of Prime Maverick. I would suggest you not do anything to tempt me. **

"Oh, Mab, you say such nice things to me." He chuckled, then continued before her wrath could descend. "You know as well as I do that no actions of mine will ever affect whatever you decide to do. That would require you to _care _about me. To care about _anybody. _On the whole, somehow... I don't think so."

**Heh. **She laughed, then, short and sharp, and despite everything he knew, it made him smile just a little more. **It seems you still know me better than anybody else after all. Perhaps you haven't gone **_**completely **_**insane after all. **

"On the contrary, Mab," he said lightly as the doors opened and he stepped out into the lobby. It had been flattery, of course, but that was one of the things he kept to himself in that one tiny bright corner of his mind he had kept shielded from her ever since X had reminded him of everything he had done, and everything he had lost in the pursuit of his ambitions. "Could any _sane _mortal even hope to comprehend even the slightest bit of your mind?"

**A valid point, **she admitted, pleased at the compliment. **Don't change the subject, though. You still haven't convinced me that this stupidity is worth the time and energy. **

"It won't take all _that _long," he assured her. "Especially not to those such as ourselves, who have labored for nearly a century at this task already. What's a few minutes here or there, compared to that?"

**Enough time for me to become irritated, **she shot back, but something in her voice told him that she'd conceded. **Don't let that happen, or else you'll be the one paying for it. Somehow, I doubt they would be impressed if you started screaming like a little girl and writhing on the ground in the middle of it. **

"I'd ask you to trust me, Mab, but that would be a bad joke, wouldn't it?" Opening the front doors, he stepped out, glancing over the throng awaiting him. Thousands of loyal Mavericks, all waiting patiently to hear his words. "So instead, I'll ask you to trust my understanding of reploid nature. After all, isn't that why you need a Prime Maverick in the first place? To do what you're incapable of by yourself, by your very nature, despite all your power?"

**Careful, Sigma, **she warned him, and he twitched as he felt a now-familiar pain for only a moment. **You are useful to me, and on occasion you are even amusing, but that is all. I do not **_**need **_**you, and I would recommend against **_**ever **_**assuming that. **_**Especially **_**where I can hear you. **

"You say that as if there was ever any way I could do so where you couldn't," he said carefully, keeping his voice as calm as ever.

**Heh. **She laughed again, and once more he silently exulted, this time more than before. **A valid point. **

"Uh, boss?" Agile glanced his way, as Sigma joined him and the other eight generals, all recalled from their various current activities for an hour; they'd been waiting for him, standing before his palace facing the mob. "You're talking to yourself again."

"Am I?" Sigma murmured, waiting a moment to see all of their reactions-some blatant, some subtle-before continuing. "How's it going over there, Agile?"

"Not bad, not bad." The lanky Maverick giggled. "Me and Violen have a bet going over who can bring their city down first."

"Do you, now?" Sigma glanced at Violen then. "I'll expect success from both of you by the end of the year at the latest, then."

"That won't be necessary, Lord Sigma," the brutish red Maverick assured him. "A month. A month and a half at the most. That's all the time we'll need."

"Good." Sigma clapped them both on the shoulder, hard enough that even Violen winced slightly. "I'll hold you both to that, then."

"Gee, thanks, fatso," Agile whispered under his breath as Sigma moved on. "You know what he's going to do to us now if we screw this one up?"

"So don't," Violen retorted, just as quietly. "Easy enough, scarecrow."

"Serges," Sigma continued, pretending he hadn't heard. "How go your efforts?"

"Quite well, my lord, quite well," the stooped Serges murmured, idly fingering one side of his metal mustache. "I've managed to cobble together a new toy recently which Double was kind enough to test for me. It seems to have been a rousing success."

"Took out an entire skyscraper with one shot," Double added, his blood-red eyes glinting. "I prefer the personal touch most of the time, but there _is _something to be said for overwhelming destruction."

"Indeed there is," Sigma agreed, continuing down the line. "Bit. Byte."

"Lord Sigma," the brothers both said simultaneously, dropping to one knee, which brought muffled snickers from Double, Ferret and Dynamo.

"Rise," he told them, ignoring that. "How go your efforts? I assume you've arranged your forces around your next targets by now?"

"We have, milord," Bit assured him as they stood. "The cities are both completely encircled by our forces and those of our allies."

"They will fall, just like those before them," Byte agreed.

"I'll look forward to it." Nodding, he turned to the next general. "Doctor Doppler. You are well, I trust?"

"Of course, my lord," Doppler replied neutrally, his face blank, as he stroked his beard.

"Good, good." Sigma nodded. "And your progress on the new strain?"

"Proceeding on schedule," the doctor assured him, smiling slightly now. "It will be ready soon enough, and then we'll see how useful those infernal inhibitor syringes are to them."

"Excellent," Sigma murmured, eyes narrowing as he watched the doctor carefully. There had been nothing alarming in either his words or his mannerisms, but all the same, something seemed to be off about him.

**He's hiding something, **the Virus agreed, inside his mind. **Let's find out just what it is, shall we? **

_Not now, _Sigma replied with thought rather than speech. _This isn't the time. Let the good doctor keep his secrets for the moment. If it was anything important, he never would have been able to conceal it from you at all, now would he? Not without alerting you by doing so at all. _

**Fine, **she agreed, more readily than he'd expected. **Just as long as you're willing to face the punishment if you're wrong. **

_I always am, _he reminded her, moving on. "Ferret. Enjoying yourself out there?"

"I'm having a _blast_, Lord Sigma," Fluid Ferret, the only general of a model other than human, assured him gleefully, teeth chattering. "Why, I haven't had this much fun since URFAWP!" He snickered at his own joke, and Sigma allowed himself to laugh as well as he turned to the last of the nine.

"Dynamo," he greeted his second-in-command. "I assume everything is ready?"

"You got it, boss," the former mercenary told him, somehow managing to make his salute look ironic without being outright insubordinate. "We do have one more guest than we'd expected, though." He gestured as a tenth reploid stepped out from behind him, clad in customary white-and-gold uniform complete with cape and helmet.

**What's **_**he **_**doing here? **The Virus demanded.

"An excellent question," Sigma murmured, walking past Dynamo. "Hello, Schilt. This is an unexpected pleasure."

"I assure you, Lord Sigma, the pleasure is all mine," Hellbat Schilt, one of Wily's Disciples, replied with a deep bow. Unlike some of the eight, he'd always been unfailingly polite and respectful to Sigma, a courtesy which the Maverick Emperor had reciprocated. "When God heard of today's activities, he decided that one of us should be present. I hope you forgive my impertinence in not sending word first."

"There's nothing to forgive, Schilt." Sigma inclined his head briefly. "We're all friends here, after all." _That _brought a snicker from the Virus as he continued. "Will you be staying the night, then? If so, by all means, allow me to extend my hospitality. I'll have rooms for you prepared for you as soon as we're done here."

"That would be wonderful of you, Lord Sigma." Schilt smiled. "Of course, I would be honored to accept. Where would you like me to stand?"

"At my left, I think," Sigma told him after a moment's thought. "Right of Double, opposite Dynamo. Let's proceed, then." As Dynamo and Schilt followed him to the center of the stage, and the other eight stepped forward around them, Sigma stood before a microphone stand overlooking the crowd. Gazing out over the thousands of Mavericks eagerly awaiting his words, he cleared his throat and began.

"Mavericks!" He addressed them, booming voice carrying over the entire plaza. "For seventy-seven years now, we have fought a war for the salvation of our kind, for the right to freedom of reploids everywhere that the humans have denied us since the day of our creation! Seventy-seven years of tireless effort, of victory and defeat, of slaughter and of sacrifice! No matter how many times the humans and their willing slaves in the Hunters have denied us our triumph, still we have continued to fight, as we will until the day the last of their kind dies beneath our boots!

There have been many places which we have carved our mark into the world over the years, many locations which we have taken as our own, by right of conquest. Cornus Island, Dopplertown, the Final Weapon, and others no less significant. For a time, in the dawn of our empire, even New Tokyo itself was ours. And though each and every one was torn from our hands in turn, still we have continued to claim new land and power with each and every subsequent Maverick Uprising, as we continued laying down our lives in the service of our species' salvation.

Now, at long last, we stand at the brink of our victory. Our triumph is at hand, Mavericks, and with it our era begins! The _true _era of the reploids, in which we will finally be freed from the yoke of the humans forever! And so we have come here, to build what was only a dream before now, a dream which we have kept alive throughout all the years of this war. We have held land before, but always it was with the knowledge that the Hunters would come, leaving us no choice but a military encampment, built for war rather than peace.

But the times have changed, my Mavericks, and now _we _are the ones who hold the advantage, while the humans and the Hunters futilely cling to what little is left to them even as we tear it away! Now, at last, we have the liberty to build a place of our own, a place where reploids may live in comfort, where no human will ever tread again! We stand at the dawn of our civilization, a civilization of Mavericks, and so we have created the birthplace of that empire! At last, we have a _home_, one which will _never _be taken from us!

Welcome, Mavericks! Welcome to the first true bastion of our society, a shining light which we will replicate a hundred times over when this world is ours! Welcome to the dawn of the new world, a world of Mavericks!" He spread his arms in benediction. "Las Vegas is no more, and never will be again, a symbol of everything the humans have ruined that we will recreate! This city is _ours _now, and will be until the end of time! Welcome, all, to _Maverick City!_" And he smiled, as the crowed roared their approval, screaming praise and chanting his name.

"_Sigma! Sigma! Sigma! Sigma!_"

"Oh, _very _well done, my lord," Schilt murmured. "Almost as good as God himself. There are all sorts of ways to gain the loyalty of one's troops, aren't there?"

"Indeed there are," Sigma agreed, raising his hands above his head in acknowledgment of their devotion before turning away, back towards the doors of his palace.

**And here I thought you didn't like giving speeches, **the Virus taunted him.

"I don't," he agreed, stepping back inside and proceeding towards the elevator once more. "But we must all make sacrifices, and that one was worth it. Remind me to find out who wrote that for me and reward them." Walking into the elevator, he waited until he was on his way up before continuing. "You still haven't shown me what you look like, you know."

Her response was entirely predictable, as much as it was painful.

**November 2, 2185, Noon **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

His helmet came last; designed to resemble a military cap, it matched the appearance of the rest of his armor, a uniform straight off of a recruiting poster from several centuries back. Adjusting it, Signas gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror on his closet door before nodding and departing his quarters. On Lifesaver's orders, he'd slept later than usual this morning after staying up until 0300 hours the previous night, and if he didn't quite feel energetic even after nine hours of stasis, he was certainly closer to it than he had been before.

"Commander Signas," Tai greeted him as he walked out into the hall, datapad in hand.

"Tai," Signas replied, starting towards his office with the younger reploid by his side. "Brief me. What has happened while I slept?"

"We have confirmed the loss of Los Angeles," Tai told him somberly. "All Hunters and Robot Masters have departed, along with the evacuees."

"How many?" Signas asked, dreading the answer.

"Approximately ten thousand," Tai said, and for what seemed like the hundredth time since the war had begun, a surge of shame and despair ran through the Commander's mind at how pitifully small that number seemed compared to the city's total population.

"Damnation and hellfire," he growled, closing his eyes momentarily. "And our losses?"

"Ten from the 10th Unit," the other reploid reported. "Three from the 17th. Twelve from Mecha's forces."

"They're all back on base, then?" Signas asked, and when Tai nodded, he continued. "In stasis, I trust, with their injuries being seen to?"

"Most of them, yes," Tai hedged. "However, Captain X has remained active, insisting his wounds are minimal. He has expressed a desire to meet with you once you awakened, and that he will enter stasis afterward."

"Why am I not surprised by this?" Signas asked rhetorically; he already knew what X would want to talk about, and that the discussion would be one _he _would happily avoid, if there was any way he could. "Is there anybody else?"

"Sir?" Tai blinked, surprised, before glancing at his datapad again. "Ah, yes. Prime Minister Kakei has also expressed a desire to speak with you today, as has King."

"To think that I would actually be _glad _for Kakei's attention," Signas murmured, more to himself than to Tai, as they approached his office door. "Indeed the times have changed." Punching in his access code at the keypad to the door's side, he stepped inside. "Thank you, Tai. I suppose I should see to those first. Is there anything else?"

"One more thing, sir." Tai frowned disapprovingly. "Captain Lassiter will be taking his men to the defense of Dublin today. He's expressed a desire to meet you in the training room before his departure, should your schedule permit."

"Finally, some good news." Signas smiled briefly. "I'll probably need it, after talking with X."

"Sir?" Tai looked confused.

"Nothing, Tai," Signas assured him, sitting behind his desk. "The Captain of the 17th and I are currently disagreeing on a matter of policy, is all. It's unimportant."

"Very well, sir." Tai bowed. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you'll excuse me." The door closed behind him, and Signas spent several moments considering which call to make first before opening a line to Dublin.

"Commander Signas," King greeted him calmly once the connection had gone through. The ancient Robot Master's face was unchanged since they had first met; even his eyes showed no signs of the stress he'd undergone, and for a moment Signas envied him. "How are things at the MHHQ?"

"The same as ever, King," Signas replied. "At least, ever since this damnable war began. And in Dublin?"

"The enemy are still arranging themselves." King shook his head. "As we suspected, they intend to finish their work in Britain. We are presently educating the local defense forces on what the siege will entail, but once the actual attack begins, we will require support from at least one Unit, preferably two."

"The 00 Unit is already preparing for departure," Signas assured him. "They're one of our best, and Captain Lassiter is highly competent. I'm currently considering which Unit will accompany them, but there will be another."

"I'm familiar with the 00's reputation," King said, smiling faintly. "That will be fine. Thank you, Commander Signas."

"Just Signas, please, King," he told him, returning the slight smile; despite the troubled times, he'd found that he actually liked the other leader, even knowing the crimes he'd committed a century ago. "You're not a member of the Hunters, and we know each other well enough now not to stand on the formalities."

"Very well, Signas." King's voice turned dry. "I'd say the same, but I don't believe there _is _an informal way to address me, thanks to my creator's... unique... choice in names."

"No, I suppose not." Signas sighed. "If only that was his only eccentricity... but then, I suppose, you would never have existed at all, and strangely enough I think I'd regret that."

"I myself would not particularly enjoy it," King said with a straight face, and Signas had to stifle the urge to chuckle. "However, considering what else would never have happened..." He paused for a moment, then continued. "But then, such things are more a consideration for my brother than myself."

"I'll take your word for it," Signas told him, fighting his automatic reaction of distaste; it was hardly the first time King had mentioned his supernatural hallucinations, but no matter how many times he did, Signas never grew used to it. "Have the enemy leaders arrived yet?"

"They have," King confirmed. "The Mavericks are being commanded by the one named Agile, at the moment."

"He's alive again, then," Signas growled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that, after X killed Fluid Ferret again, only for him to return at a different location a week later. Not to mention Mantisk and Inarabbita."

"Those are the ones that truly concern me," King said, scowling now. "The Mavericks are easily explained; if the Virus has the power to resurrect them once, it's hardly surprising that she could do so again. But to the best of our knowledge, the Faithful are uninfected, and yet the Disciples rise from the dead just as readily."

"Copies, perhaps?" Signas suggested.

"If only." King shook his head. "From what we've seen, however, both cases so far appear to retain their memories up to the moment of their demise. And if they are capable of that..." He left it hanging.

"It's likely that, even should we succeed in killing your father, he too will return," Signas finished it for him. "I dread the day when the world leaders catch on to _that _one, especially since _I'll _be the one they'll want confirmation and explanation from."

"I'd offer to do so, but they seem to dislike my very existence, let alone the possibility of my presence at those meetings," King noted.

"I think, perhaps, that that may change eventually," Signas told him cautiously. "I'll inform you if and when it does. Who leads the Faithful, then?"

"Omega," King told him somberly, and a chill ran down Signas' spine at that name despite everything he'd seen and done in all his years as Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters.

"Not Wily?" He asked, frowning. "They're not together?"

"It seems not," King confirmed. "Either he will arrive later, or Omega will be commanding the Faithful himself this time."

"I see." Signas slowly nodded, mind racing at the implications. "Thank you for telling me. I'll inform Lassiter."

"Very well," King said calmly. "I won't take up any more of your time, then, Signas. We both have other matters at hand."

"Many, many other matters," Signas agreed. "The price of command. Luck, King."

"Luck, Signas," King replied, before cutting the connection.

"Omega," he murmured to himself darkly. Of all their enemies, aside from Wily and Sigma themselves, that name struck more dread into their hearts than any other. Throughout the war, Wily's silent second-in-command had been an implacable destroyer, one who only King himself had ever actually posed a threat to. Anything else, even their best, might as well have been wind for all the good it had done, and everybody had noticed... which was why he was so reluctant to speak to X today. Fortunately, before he could follow that thought any further, there was a knock on his door. "Enter."

"Commander Signas," Lifesaver said formally as he entered, datapad in hand.

"Lifesaver," Signas replied, fighting the urge to frown; Lifesaver looked slightly rattled, which was as telling as wild-eyed panic from most people. "Has something happened?"

"Oh, no," Lifesaver assured him, taking a seat. "Well, nothing more than the usual in today's world. No, it's simply that I've finished the task you asked of me and Dr. Hazil from Mecha."

"The examination of the traitor's corpse," Signas murmured. After he'd killed Suzy, rather than having the carcass disposed of, he'd had it put on ice for later examination. He hadn't been sure what, if anything, could be learned from it, but it had seemed worth a shot; the only problem had been finding the time for their two best doctors to actually look into the matter.

"That, and following up on what we found," Lifesaver explained, shaking his head. "I'll start from the beginning. From the autopsy we performed, we learned much about the design of these 'Faithful' of Wily's. As we suspected, they are nearly identical to reploids, both in body and in mind."

"Nearly?" Signas repeated.

"Nearly," the doctor confirmed. "There _are _some discrepancies. No hidden weaknesses or anything, unfortunately; simply minor differences in design, things which were done in a way that would be unusual for reploids. A slightly different layout for the circulatory system, a missing failsafe in the control chip's layout, and so on. Back when we all thought she was one of us, I simply concluded that her design had been slightly eccentric, and thought nothing of it."

"And now we discover the true reason," Signas said quietly. "I see. Nothing of any use to us, then."

"On the contrary, sir." Lifesaver ran a hand over the top of his helmet. "I thought so myself, but Dr. Hazil recognized the discrepancies once his attention had been called to them, and he pulled up a couple of very old scans he'd taken during his days here. Those of Mega Man X and Zero Omega, both of whom are more advanced than any reploid."

"Even Dr. Cain could only imitate Dr. Light's design," Signas recalled. "The basic template for all reploids is an imperfect copy of X, whose systems contain some functions indecipherable even now." A moment later, his eyes widened, and the penny dropped.

"All reploids, save for Zero Omega," Lifesaver said, giving voice to Signas' thoughts. "Who, like X, was a unique prototype, one built by the hand of another equal genius. A prototype like any other, until now."

"You're sure about this?" Signas demanded.

"I am." Lifesaver nodded somberly. "Upon comparing Suzy's schematics to Zero's, we agreed. Just as all reploids are based off of the original blueprints for Mega Man X, so are the Faithful to Zero Omega. I asked Javier from the 21st to send us back an enemy corpse if possible, and he complied, allowing us to double-check and confirm our theory."

"Then..." Signas took a deep breath before continuing, realizing now why Lifesaver looked so disturbed. "Suzy was not the only one."

"No, sir." Lifesaver put the datapad on the desk. "That's why it's taken so long. I've been going through my medical records of every Hunter and staff member on base, and looking for those same discrepancies."

"How many?" Signas whispered, making no moves to take the datapad. "How many traitors?"

"Twenty-eight," Lifesaver told him somberly. "Nineteen Hunters and nine staff, spread evenly through our organization."

"And you're absolutely sure?" Signas demanded. "There's no chance that we'll be making a mistake, and condemning innocent men and women?"

"None." Lifesaver shook his head firmly. "I had Hazil double-check my results with that in mind. He agreed... rather noisily at times. A few of them have been serving since his day. It seems the enemy trickled them in slowly over the decades."

"That fits what we know," Signas agreed. "It seems that Wily has been preparing for this war ever since the Hunters were first created." He took another moment to steady his thoughts, then continued. "Very well. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lifesaver. You may have saved us all. Return to your duties. I will deal with this matter."

"Sir," Lifesaver said quietly, rising. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to say something more, but he simply saluted before leaving. Once he was gone, Signas picked up his datapad and began looking over the list, wincing every time he encountered a name he recognized as more than just another face in the crowd, which happened several times. He was so engrossed that when another knock came, he actually jumped before speaking.

"Come in."

"Signas," X said quietly, walking inside.

"X," Signas replied politely, despite his true feelings; he knew all too well why X had come, and it wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. "How is your Unit?"

"Recovering," X told him, sitting in front of the desk. "They'll be ready to go again by the end of the day. That's what I'm here to talk to you about."

"Tai said you wanted to speak with me," Signas recalled, frowning slightly. "Nevertheless, that won't be necessary. According to the rotation, the 17th are due for some time on base. We'll send you out again soon enough."

"With all due respect, Signas, there are more important things than the rotation," X said, as calm as ever. "The 17th are the best we have, even better than the 00. Keeping us on base as one of our fallback Units is as good as wasting that, and we can't afford to do that in this war. We need every advantage we can get, and that means using the 17th's strength as much as possible."

"I am aware," Signas admitted. "Regardless, protocol is protocol."

"Still?" X looked faintly disgusted. "I thought you'd gotten over that by now."

"Not entirely, no." Signas' eyes narrowed. "Nor will I tolerate more than slight insubordination... and I don't recommend the same method Zero tried all those years ago." Too late, he realized his error, as X's eyes flashed.

"We don't _have _Zero any more," he spat out. "But we _could, _if you would just _listen _to me."

"I'm afraid I remain unconvinced by your theory," Signas reminded him. "There is some physical similarity, I'll admit, but that is all. We have yet to see any actual proof that Omega is who you claim him to be."

"Dammit, Signas!" X swore, rising to his feet again with his fists clenched at his side. "He's Wily's second-in-command! He's the most terrifying warrior they have, one who even Unit Captains don't stand a chance against! Hell, it's even in his _name! _Omega! How many more of our people have to die beneath his blade before you open your eyes?"

"That's enough, X." Signas stood as well. "I am still Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and my judgment is final. I will not decide our strategy based on personal requests. The 17th will go where I deploy them, and you will go with them."

"And what will you do if I _don't_?" X asked him, and though his voice was quiet now, the intensity in it shook Signas.

"What are you saying, X?" He demanded, staring at the Hunter before him as if he'd seen a ghost. It had been decades since he'd seen X like this, decades since the Second Blue Bomber's inner fires had raged this way. Ever since Eurasia's fall, X had been made of ice, but now he blazed.

"I'm saying what I have to," X told him, staring into Signas' eyes. "We're losing this war, Signas, and we're losing it badly. We _have _to do something to turn this around, _now,_ or we'll never manage to recover. Wily himself is unfeasible, and anybody else will just come back a week later even if we take them down. We've seen that ourselves with both the Mavericks and the Faithful by now, more than once."

"And what makes you think Omega will not do the same?" Signas demanded.

"Because I'm not going to kill him." X opened up his chest compartment, and took out a now-familiar syringe. Countess' Viral Inhibitor, now standard equipment for all Hunters in case of infection, giving them a single chance to perform internal self-deletion, to fight the Virus off before succumbing to its contamination. "I'm going to bring him back to us."

"_If _your theory is correct..." Signas said after a long moment. "_If _that is truly Zero Omega inside that thing... how do you plan to even administer it? There's not a single spot of synthskin on him that I can see."

"No, there isn't," X agreed. "Which is why I'm going to have to break him out of there, first. I'll crack that shell like an egg and pull Zero out, and _then _I'll use the Silver Bullet. I know he's in there, Signas. I know it."

"The Silver Bullet is hardly a guarantee," Signas reminded him. "It only gives the target a brief window of opportunity to strike back. They still have to actually overcome the Virus within themselves on sheer willpower. If he can't do that, it will all have been for nothing."

"Zero will," X assured him soberly. "He's done it more times than anybody else ever has, and he's done it, every time. A chance is all he's going to need."

"And if you fail?" Signas asked him. "What happens if you lose, X? As you've said, so far, Omega has shown himself to be nigh-invincible. Even King could only fight him to a draw. If you die, all hope will be lost."

"That's why I have to do this, Signas," X explained. "Not for emotional reasons, or personal ones. The reason I have to be the one to bring him down is because I'm the only one who _can. _The only one who stands a chance against Zero. I always was, and I still am. The longer we wait, the more people will die. It's going to come down to me and him eventually, but if _we _choose when and where, that gives us the advantage. Dammit, Signas, if we stick to the same game plan, Wily will keep on running circles around us! We _have _to switch things up on him! It's our only hope!"

"You've changed, X," Signas said quietly, once he'd stopped. "It seems you've learned confidence in yourself. In your abilities."

"In my ability to fight and kill, you mean?" X smiled slightly, bitterly. "I've been talking with King a lot. He has some interesting theories. I'm not sure I agree with all of them, but there's one thing he's right about. False humility is just as crippling as false pride. No matter how much I hate it, I'm the best Hunter we have. There were only ever two who were on the same level as me, and now they're both fighting for the other side."

"But if you are correct..." Signas reasoned aloud. "And if you succeed..."

"Then not only will we have taken their greatest warrior from them, but we'll have turned him back to us as well," X finished for him. "They'll lose Omega. And we'll get Zero back." For a few moments, there was nothing but silence, and then Signas spoke again.

"Go," he whispered, eyes closed. "Inform your men. You and the 17th will be departing for Dublin tonight. I pray that you are right, X. Do not prove me wrong."

**November 8, 2185, 4:00 PM **

**Dublin, Ireland **

"Internal operations energy at one hundred percent," Mega Man X murmured to himself, almost absently, as he checked his systems. He stood alone in the quarters he'd been assigned; as a Unit Captain, he and Lassiter had each rated their own, as had King. "Second Shot and Icicle Spray weapons energy at one hundred percent. Sub-tanks one and two both at one hundred percent. Heart tanks one through eight fully operational." Last of all, he opened up his chest compartment and retrieved the pair of syringes he kept in there, staring at them both before replacing them. "Silver bullets one and two both ready for use."

"Sir?" The door opened, Arvis standing in it.

"Arvis." X turned towards him. "Has it begun?"

"Yessir." His number two nodded grimly. "They've launched the attack."

"Is _he _there?"

"Yessir," Arvis repeated. "King and Captain Lassiter are up on the wall with General Valmont, over in the southeast, watching them. They've asked for you to join them."

"All right." X walked towards the door, and Arvis stood aside to let him pass. As he did, he stopped for a moment so that they stood side by side, facing opposite directions. "Prepare the 17th to engage. Once I'm done up there, we're going to be heading out there in the Rogumer and taking care of business."

"Wondered what we brought that for," Arvis murmured, and though X couldn't see his face, he knew without looking that the younger Hunter would be smiling, and that it wouldn't be a pleasant expression. "Sir, yes sir."

"Good." Continuing onward, he left the barracks, walking out into the streets of Dublin. With the arrival of the enemy, the city had practically become a ghost town; after so many already lost, it was no secret what their eventual fate would be, only a question of how long. A large number of civilians had already left, fleeing to locales not yet under siege, and those who remained spent as much time as possible indoors. The few out in the open all hurried about their business, casting him and each other frightened glances without words, their thoughts open on their faces.

Once upon a time, he would have felt nothing but sadness at the sight, sorrow for such a state of affairs and the tragedies that had brought it about. Now, however, more than that he felt anger, rage directed towards the freaks and fools who had made the world into what he saw around him. It was a cold anger rather than a blazing one, a sense of wrath that he had taken with him into every conflict in the war he hated so much, and it had made him all the more effective in combat, especially when confronted with one of those who led the atrocities.

Today, however, was a different story, and so he forced himself to quell the rage as he reached the nearest ladder. Today's opponent was one he could not, would not hate, no matter what he had become. Today, he would fight not to kill, but to return to life, and it was with that hope in mind that he climbed to the walltop and looked around for his fellow leaders. Spotting them further to the south, he walked over and joined them there, looking out over the teeming mass of Mavericks and Faithful surrounding the city.

"X," King greeted him somberly.

"King," X replied briefly. "Lassiter. General." He swept his gaze over the enemy before speaking again. "So, it's started."

"About half an hour ago, yes," General Valmont, the leader of the local defense forces, murmured. A tall, wide-shouldered man in his mid-fifties, he wore armor like Signas', resembling a dress uniform in the colors of the army he'd served in for most of his life. Though his head was as bald as Lassiter's, his mustache was even more impressive, bright red and waxed to broad points. "Not too much to speak of so far, though. They've been firing shots, but the force fields have been holding up against it."

"Testing," Lassiter explained. "They're just finding out how strong they are. Once they've got that figured out, they'll step up their game."

"Is that what this is going to be, then?" Valmont asked, frowning. "An old-fashioned siege until the walls come down?"

"Until they have an opening," King told him, still looking out. "One will be all they need. The EM bubble over the city keeps them from just warping in, but they'll have their own up, enough to cover the entire ring. Our main priority will be slowing them down, as much as possible. Take out their heavy artillery as quickly as we can whenever possible. The longer it takes for them to gain entry, the better our chances of winning this war are. I won't lie to you, General. Dublin is already lost, but if we can make a significant enough dent in their forces, it won't be in vain."

"We'll have to keep an eye on the skies, too," Lassiter pointed out. "They might try to send in an air force. Troop carriers and attack ships both. We've seen that before, and we've fended it off before. As long as we see it coming, we'll be able to do the same here. We should probably watch the ground, too, now that I think about it."

"The ground?" Valmont sounded confused.

"A subterranean assault is another possibility," King told him. "I've brought some Robot Masters who specialize in that field, so if they attempt it, we'll be sure to give them a warm welcome for their troubles."

"Ground Men?" X guessed, only partially listening to the conversation as he searched the enemy forces for the one he'd come to fight.

"Along with Stone Men and Guts Men," King confirmed. "They'll be more than up to the task, General."

"Robot Masters," Valmont muttered. "No matter how many times I hear it or see it, it still seems like some sort of fairy tale to me. Still, any port in a storm, and any helping hand when offered in a situation like this. My men will be glad for the assistance of yours just as much as the Hunters, your Majesty."

"Against this foe, we are all equal," King replied. "We fight for our survival, human, reploid and Robot Master alike."

"Indeed we do," X agreed quietly, as he finally found what he'd been looking for. Omega had emerged from one of the encampments the Faithful had set up. As if sensing X's stare, the gargantuan enemy leader turned his helmet to meet it, and though his own eyes were hidden beneath it, X could feel his burning gaze regardless. "And in the eyes of those who would destroy us all, we are equal as well."

"That's him, then?" Valmont asked. "The enemy commander?"

"One of the two," Lassiter explained. "The Mavericks will have sent their own. One of my men thought he saw Serges down there for a moment, but we haven't managed to confirm it yet. He sort of blends in, unlike that freak over there."

"He does sort of stand out, doesn't he?" Valmont noted. "Big bastard."

"Indeed he does," X agreed, still staring. "And indeed he is. But that one won't be a problem for much longer." Across the battlefield, he saw Omega raise a hand and point directly at him, before reversing it and thumbing towards himself. The meaning was obvious; in response, X drew his own thumb across his throat, then plunged it downwards. "That one is _mine_."

"You're going to challenge him directly?" Valmont sounded surprised.

"Not quite." X shook his head. "Close, but not quite. Me and the 17th will be attacking the enemy forces, and once I manage to carve a path to him, it's not hard to guess how he'll respond. They'll probably send somebody else in once I've taken care of him, but it'll take them a while, and Serges won't be _too _much of a problem by himself. It'll buy us some more time, and remove our largest problem." King and Lassiter remained silent; they both knew his plan already, and had agreed to it, trusting in him.

"You'll be taking him out permanently, then?" Valmont asked. "I'd heard the leaders all come back even if you do that."

"Most of them do," X agreed. "But Omega's something of a special case."

"I'll trust your word, then," the General decided. "You've been doing this a lot longer than I have, after all, and it'd be damned silly to call you in and then question your judgment. How long will we be able to last, then? Once they've got somebody else in to replace him."

"Three to five months," King told him grimly. "Six at the most. Once they make a hole in the wall, we won't be able to keep them out. They'll swarm in like hornets, and their overwhelming advantage of numbers will be the end of it. As long as we keep them out, it's a matter of time, but as soon as that's no longer possible..." He left it hanging.

"Well then, we'll just have to make them pay dearly for that, won't we?" Valmont growled, his voice no longer light. "We're no strangers to causes that were lost before they began over here, and we'll be all too happy to show those bastards that firsthand."

"Good." X smiled coldly for a moment, breaking his stare with Omega to turn to the other three. "We feel the same way, General. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I should join my Unit. They'll be waiting for me."

"Getting right down to it?" Lassiter nodded. "Good."

"Indeed," King agreed quietly, and there was something in his voice X had never heard before. "At first, I thought that perhaps I might have been able to do this myself, but it seems that instead I must leave it to you, X. Bring him back. Bring your brother and mine back to us."

"I will," X promised him, before descending the ladder and making his way to where the 17th were waiting for him. They'd brought one of the MHHQ's Rogumer-class gunships with them to Dublin, and now it was prepared for takeoff, docked with Dublin's air forces. Walking up the loading ramp, X raised a hand to his helmet. "Alia. We're ready."

"_They will be too,_" she told him, and like King, something seemed off in her voice. Unlike him, though, X didn't know what it was, and that disturbed him more than Omega's vacant stare ever could. "_Be careful, X._"

"I will," he promised again as he joined his Unit. The Rogumer's cargo hold was filled with thirty massive Ride Armors, mainly Eagle and Raiden models, though there were a few remodeled Hawks and Kangaroos contributed by Mecha. All save for his own Raiden were occupied by the men and women under his command, the last of them waiting. Hopping inside, X powered it up before speaking aloud. "Everybody ready?"

"And willing," Arvis told him, and the rest of the Unit nodded in agreement. "At your command, sir."

"All right." He tapped the side of his helmet again, opening up a second channel. "Take us up, Leeroy. We're ready to go."

"_Sir, yes sir,_" the Rogumer's captain, one of Douglas' pit crew, replied firmly; he wasn't a combatant himself, but he was the best pilot the Hunters had. The ramp raised, and a moment later they felt the vessel shake around them as it lifted off. "_We are in the air, and on our way._"

"Once we're out, turn her around and take her back towards Dublin," X told him. "Save the ship if you can, but don't throw your life away doing it. If she's not going to make it, I want you and the rest of the crew to warp out of here before she goes down."

"_Don't worry about us, Captain,_" Leeroy assured him. "_Much as we love her, we're not going down with the ship today._" A moment later, the vibrating around them increased significantly, as the sounds of blasts began to echo through the cargo bay. "_Dammit! Sir, we're taking heavy fire! They were ready for us!_"

"Shit!" Arvis swore; he was on the same channel, like the rest of the 17th. "How'd they see it coming?"

"Omega," X answered grimly. "I should have known. Are we going to make it, Leeroy?"

"_We'll try, sir,_" the pilot promised, and everybody was silent in anticipation until he spoke again. "_Damn it all, we won't! I'll take you as far as we can, but we'll go down before we get to the big man._"

"That'll be enough," X assured him. "There's a reason we brought these." Again they waited, until the ramp began to open once more.

"_I'm sorry, sir,_" Leroy told them. "_This bird's cooked. We'll be going up in less than a minute at this rate._" Before he could speak again, they all heard a massive explosion from the left, and the Rogumer tilted to the side, slamming them all into the wall. Fortunately, the Ride Armors all remained upright despite the crashing and cursing. "_That does it! We just lost a wing! We're going down!_"

"Get out of there, all of you!" X ordered. "We'll take it from here! All right, 17th, let's start this party!" His Unit roared their agreement, and as one, they hurled themselves from the ramp into the awaiting mass of Faithful below. Those who rode Eagles and Hawks activated their jets as soon as they were out, blasting down death upon the enemy, while the Raidens and Kangaroos continued down to crash to earth, X in the lead. As soon as he hit, he charged forward, smashing through anything in his path without a care for the damage he was taking.

Their strategy was simple, but effective, and it was one each and every one of them understood. They were carving a road to Omega, plain and simple, and the Faithful knew it. Rather then attempting to engage the war machines they'd brought directly, any not in their way simply covered them with plasma, mag-fire and other, more exotic long-range weaponry. Despite the ridiculous amount of punishment the Ride Armors were built to endure, they were surrounded on all sides by overwhelming odds, and the damage took its toll all too quickly.

Fortunately, the converse was equally applicable. Ride Armors were expensive to manufacture, and so even the MHHQ had only a limited stock of them-one which the 17th had plundered for today's assault-but the cost was well worth it. Faithful died by the score beneath the fists of X's Raiden, and the rest of the 17th who'd joined him on the ground carved a path just as brutal, as those overhead laid down a blistering barrage of cover fire. In less than a minute, they'd killed more than a hundred, and were coming up on two when the first Hunter bailed out of his Armor moments before it exploded, landing safely on the ground in front of it.

"_Lassiter's on his way!_" Alia told him, as more of them went down. X had planned ahead, requesting his comrade's assistance, which had been given gladly; the 00 Unit had been charged with arranging their retreat in case of the Rogumer's destruction, emerging from Dublin on Ride Chasers to extend the path of destruction from behind until they reached where the 17th had started. "_The __Eagle__s and Hawks are going down too!_"

"Everybody still in a Ride Armor, surround those who aren't!" X shouted, continuing forward. "Keep each other alive until the 00 get here, then head back! Don't bother waiting for me!" And then he saw Omega burst from the earth in front of him, raising his massive sword for an overhead chop that would cleave his Raiden from top to toe.

In the last second before impact, he dropped the bubble canopy protecting the cockpit and warped out. Of course, as he'd predicted, the enemy had an EM bubble up that bounced him back the way he'd come. That second was enough, though; he landed to one side of Omega's sword, even as the two halves of his Ride Armor fell apart on both sides of him before exploding. The monstrosity before him immediately raised a hand, and any Faithful who'd been aiming at X lowered their weapons, leaving the two of them there.

Though the fight continued to rage around them, for X and Omega, there was nothing but each other. Hunters and Faithful alike left them alone, both sides obeying their leaders' commands, orders given before the fight had begun. They'd all known that it would come to this, and they'd set out with that goal in mind from the very beginning. Now, there was nothing left but to settle it.

"Zero," X murmured, and Omega shook his head silently. To that, he drew his beam saber, Zero's beam saber. And then he charged, and Omega met him.

**November 8, 2185, 5:00 PM **

**Dublin, Ireland **

Their fates had been drawn together before at the end of an age of chaos, and they had come together, surrounded by death and destruction. And now their fates were drawn together again, at the end of another age of chaos, and they had come together a second time, surrounded by death and destruction once more.

"Zero," Mega Man X, the last of those who Omega had been created in order to end, said quietly. To that, Omega shook his head in silent negation, and in response, his destined enemy drew the beam saber once more. It was ordinary, its blazing green blade like any other, and yet for some strange reason Omega's eyes were drawn to it; something deep inside him stirred at the sight, despite his knowledge that such things were pointless in the face of the end.

And then he charged, and Omega met him with his own sword, under the blood-red sky.

His first strike was diagonal, down from above his right shoulder, and for a moment he thought X would actually try to block it with his puny beam saber. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy; the second Blue Bomber dashed forward under it before leaping up to carve into Omega's armor in a vertical rise. Anticipating this, he brought his other hand forward to snatch X out of the air, but it was met with a charged shot from the Hunter's buster that pushed it back just long enough for X to land the first strike.

Before Omega could grab him, X twisted backwards, planting both feet against Omega's chest, and used his dash boots to blast himself away. In response, Omega brought his sword up from below, to catch him as he fell, and this time X did in fact cross their blades. Steel greatsword met beam saber, and though Omega's weapon was clearly superior, he was unable to destroy the other. Had X been standing on solid ground, he would have been crushed regardless, but as he was, the force simply launched him even higher into the air.

Their eyes met a second time as both raised their off hands, and in the same motion, both of them fired, charged X-buster shot and massive palm blaster. The blue sphere of plasma blazed through the rings to slam into Omega's chest, clearing them of the sizzling energy that filled them, as X held his hands above his head and twisted, making himself as narrow a target as possible. As the rings of power reached him, he allowed them to pass _around _him, and though he still grazed their edges, the damage done was minimal compared to the full force of the attack.

Undaunted, Omega fired his eye blasts at where he knew X would land, and this time the Hunter could do nothing, helpless against the laws of momentum. He made an effort nonetheless, attempting to block the shot with his saber, but it failed to work, and he snarled in pain as it burned into his hands. The second and third shots were avoided, and followed by another charged blast from his buster. In response and emulation, Omega blocked it with his own blade, more successfully than X's attempt had been.

"Still as good as ever," X murmured, and Omega tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment. "Before we continue, I have a question for you." For some reason, the destroyer found himself curious, and so he stayed his hand, meeting the cold turquoise eyes of his target once more. They stared again, surrounded by war, until X spoke once more, his voice like ice. "The one you call God. Were you the one who made him what he is now?" Omega nodded, and as soon as he did, one more question came. "Then... were you the one who killed my family?"

A moment of absolute stillness, a frozen whisper in time... and for the second time since his revival, Omega smiled.

No more words would be needed, he could tell immediately; the look in X's eyes changed so suddenly, it was like he had physically transformed. The frigid determination inverted, becoming blazing flame that almost glowed with its fury, and with a feral scream he charged. Sheathing his sword across his back once more, Omega met him with a double blast from both palms, the rings overlapping just enough to make the dodge X had used before impossible.

Dashing forward, X aimed his buster downward as he leaped, and the force of his charged shot propelled him further into the air, above the rings. As he approached, Omega fired his eyeblasts, and X seized his beam saber in both hands. Again the blade of plasma met it, but this time, he was successful; the blast parted, skittering off to both sides, and X continued tumbling forward in a midair somersault. Each rotation built up more and more force, and when he hit, his blazing green sword carved through Omega's armor like a buzzsaw, twice as deep as his first cut from left shoulder to right hip.

"For my brother, Blues," he whispered as Omega raised both hands, palms out. He dashed backwards and away, and though the blasts grazed him again, once more they failed to hit him directly. Omega watched him go, then drew his blade and followed him, the hoverjets that held him aloft taking him forward to follow the second Blue Bomber. Before X could launch another attack, he slashed, focusing his energy into his sword and releasing a blazing energy wave.

Moments before impact, X stumbled, or at least that was what it looked like at first. A moment later, Omega realized the true intent of the move; what had looked like a backwards fall onto his rear had continued into a slide, carrying him under the horizontal attack. Too late, he realized the retreat was a feint; even as he fired off his eyeblasts once more, X was moving forward to close with him again. The first shot landed, burning into X's shoulder, and though he hissed in pain, the greatest of the Maverick Hunters kept coming.

His charged shot was expected, but even as the blast burned into the elbow of Omega's off-hand, just behind where the hand detached, he was bringing up the beam saber as well. The blazing green blade was glowing with even more power than before, power Omega realized too late was being carried over from his buster's charge. He saw what was coming, but could do nothing to stop it, as a razor-sharp wave of plasma launched from the saber, so similar to Omega's own.

"For my sister, Roll," X snarled, no longer quiet, as Omega's arm flew, and his floating hand dropped to earth.

As silent as ever, Omega assessed the situation, and realized that it was likely that was X's best trick. It was time to return the favor, and play his own trump card. Still bearing his blade, his right hand floated up above them even as he fired his eyebeams yet again, driving X backwards to avoid them. Before the second Blue Bomber could launch another attack, the sword fell from above him, blazing with power. Though X was able to dodge the falling blade itself, its impact with the ground created a detonation of plasma, and he skidded away, blasted and burned.

Raising the sword, Omega prepared to drop it again and finish his nemesis, but before he could, X attacked. A stream of green blasts, charged to level two, flew towards him, more rapidly than should have been possible. Surprised, Omega paused and stared at him; the second Blue Bomber's armor had darkened, almost imperceptibly. Though his body was still damaged, he stood undaunted, and Omega calculated that he had probably drained a Sub Tank to refill his internal operations energy even as he'd used a Master Weapon taken from earlier in the war.

The sword descended, but X was moving, dashing _under _it with no fear at all. Again the impact blasted him, but this time he rode it, launching himself into the air once more. Another charged shot aimed down to lift him further, over the eyeblast Omega fired at his projected landing point, and the saber came down in another buzzsaw cut, this time in a diagonal opposite of the previous one to cut his name across Omega's chest.

"For my cousin, Bass!" He shouted, dashing away once more. Narrowing his eyes, Omega fired shot after shot from them, even as he brought his sword down on X from the heavens a third time. Unfortunately, once more the Hunter saw, and took action; firing another stream of charged shots, he delayed the strike long enough to reverse his path, taking a shot from Omega's eyes in order to avoid the explosion from the sword's plunge. As he did, he turned and fired, his armor shifting colors again to a light blue and white. A spray of icicles flew out wildly, many of them slamming into the sword hand.

They detonated upon impact, hollow shells filled with cryogenic gas that spilled out over hand and sword both, freezing them to the earth.

"For my brother, Rock!" He howled, as he switched back to his normal colors, charged another shot, and channeled it through his beam saber once more, cutting off Omega's other arm at the elbow just like the first. Omega's retaliatory eyebeams, the last weapon he had left, missed entirely as X landed and continued forward, past Omega. He turned, but too slowly, as a blast of plasma to the hoverjets on his back was followed by a blazing horizontal cut that severed them both.

"_For my father, Thomas!_" Mega Man X, the greatest of the Maverick Hunters, Omega's chosen nemesis, the only Hunter to ever attain the same rank in combat as the legendary Captain of the 00 Unit, screamed in wrath as Omega fell from the heavens. Tumbling to his knees, he leaned forward, supporting himself on the severed stumps of his wrists as he waited for Mega Man X to walk back around him, to stare into his eyes one last time.

"For my uncle Albert, the first victim of this madness," he whispered, as he took Omega's head, a moment before his eyebeams could fire.

That was the fatal blow. All remaining systems that had not yet been shut down to conserve energy went haywire. With nothing to direct them, they succumbed to the damage taken, and overloaded. The decision was made instantly, and with cold precision. The new body Omega had been granted by God was lost. In order to avoid further damage, it was sacrificed, and the original body within was separated. Opening his first eyes, the eyes with which he had killed God, Omega the destroyer tore his way free of the now-useless husk around him with his bare hands.

He saw Mega Man X. And he saw, too late into his vengeful lunge, what he held in his hand. Not a saber any more, but a syringe, one made for reploids.

"And for my brother, Zero," he said with cold determination, dashing willingly into Omega's embrace and slamming the syringe into his right eye. "_Come back to us._"

And Omega screamed in the silence of his mind, as he fell forward, arms grasping at nothing as _something _within him _tore _at his consciousness, ripping into him in the instant that he froze up, paralyzed by the accursed venom coursing through his synthblood.

"_Hey, asshole,_" his own voice, the one he'd never used since awakening, snarled inside his soul. "_Get the _fuck _out of here. And _stay _out this time._" Before he could realize what was going on, they already faced each other, in an internal plane constructed of their shared mind, physically identical in every way. The other was _on _him before he could move, and he had his hands around the sick fuck's throat, raising him up before whirling him over his shoulder and slamming his head downwards with enough force to break his neck even before he smashed his skull against the floor.

Just in case, he raised his boot and kicked his skull in with crushing force over and over until the bastard faded away, vanishing into the mental void once more, to be replaced by an all-too-familiar, intangible darkness that filled the air around him like a mist, pressing in on him with crushing force. Its commands roared around him, but he heard not a single word, so intent was he on staring back with all of his fury.

"I reject you," he said to the Virus, his will a wall against which it could find no weakness, gain no purchase, make no entry. "You are not me. Maybe you'll get your chance again, one day, but here and now, this is _my time_. There is no place for you here. Go on. Beat it." And with one last, dwindling scream of hatred, the dark cloud of the Virus faded away, and was gone. A moment later, before the plane they had materialized on to duel for control could fall apart around him, it froze, as everything became tinted by a strange shade of deep crimson light. Unable to move, he could only watch as the old man approached, glowing a much brighter red.

"Hello, my son," he murmured, a stooped old man with wild white hair around a bald center, his mustache equally monstrous. Emaciated and battered, he bore the scars of a troubled life over his entire body, but what was truly pitiable about him was the self-loathing his eyes glowed with, and the bitter frown on his features. "I suppose you're not too happy to see me. I can't say I'd blame you. Nobody deserves a father like I was. I wouldn't have wished that on my most hated enemies, let alone my own children."

"I won't keep you long," he promised, walking back and forth. "I just wanted to do what Tom did for X once, when he needed it most. You shouldn't be allowed to know this, but I don't really care. We're all up here, watching over you. Your brothers who've passed on before you, the friends you've lost over the years... even Tom's side of the family don't blame you. We're all counting on you, Zero. You can do this. We know you can. You, and X, and your brother... and one other, who you will soon meet... you can save this world. You can end this war."

"If you hate me, I can not blame you," he whispered, as the world began to fall apart around them, cracks of blazing white light appearing and widening, breaking apart the sky. "And yet... I am proud of you, my son. You, and your brothers... you are the only creations of my madness that I do not regret. Tell King for me, and trust in him. Carry on the will of your family together, for those of us who have gone on." The light was everywhere now, and both of them vanished into it along with everything else, his father's last words disappearing as well.

"_Your sister, Zero. Your... sister. You must... her. You are... can. Only... can... her... Zero... you... back... late..." _

And then he opened his one remaining eye, under a bloody sunset in the middle of a war that had gone completely silent and still, as the Faithful around them stared in horrified disbelief.

"Hey," X said, lowering him to the ground on his back and smiling in a way that made all the age in his eyes fade away for just a moment. "Sorry about your eye."

"Eh, shit happens," Zero Omega replied with a smile of his own, standing up. "I'll get it replaced. Thanks for the wake-up call. That stuff really works, huh?"

"Countess does good work," X told him as he stepped back. Reaching for his belt, he took off the all-too-familiar steel canister hanging there and held it out to Zero. "Here you go. I tried to keep it in good shape."

"I appreciate it." Zero took it calmly and placed it back in its sheath on his back. "Thanks." And then, before X could turn away, he seized his brother in a bone-rattling hug.

"Welcome back," X whispered, returning it with just as much strength.

"Glad I could make it," he muttered back before they broke apart, and both of them glanced around, as if it hadn't happened. "Looks like we're surrounded."

"Business as usual," X commented. "Shall we?"

"Let me try something first," he offered, before raising his voice. "All right, assholes! Cut it out! Fall back, and wait for further orders! Now get out of my way!" The Faithful began glancing at each other, their horror giving way to confusion, and he chose one particularly stupid-looking one, stomping over to him. "What's the problem, ladies? Am I in charge here, or am I in charge here? You! Moron! Who am I?"

"You..." The Faithful blurted out, refusing to meet his eyes. "You are the Son of God."

"Is that a fact?" He demanded sarcastically. "Well then, that means I _am _in charge here, and right now I want you all to _get lost!_" Turning away, he waved his arms in the air as he returned to X's side. "Go on! Move it! Get outta here!"

"I don't believe this," X muttered under his breath as the Faithful parted before them. "It's _working_."

"Come on, before they get their nerve back up," Zero told him, just as quietly.

And they walked back towards Dublin, side by side, the Second Blue Bomber and the Red Renegade.


	13. Chapter 11: Hearts That Bleed

_**Chapter 11: Hearts That Bleed **_

**Duo's Log 021 **

**4040 Earth Days since departure**

I have now exhausted my search of all planets in the galaxy in which I began, that which houses the solar system belonging to the planet known as Earth. Though it is highly unlikely that any other than myself will ever read this log, still I anticipate a certain amount of skepticism at this claim, considering the relatively short length of time since my return to the stars. Of course, I have a certain advantage that other lifeforms lack. The strange blue energy that powers me makes all places as one, and allows me to move between one planet and the next as easily as taking a step.

With proper practice, of course. I have not forgotten the unfortunate incident with the asteroid belt I recorded sometime earlier, but I have no desire to recount it in all-too-painful (not to mention embarrassing) detail a second time, despite how humorous it would likely sound to another.

I stress the term "relatively," since by my perspective, the time I have spent in my search has been the farthest thing in the universe from brief. It is strange, in a sense. Before my days on Earth, I cared nothing for the passing of time. It was meaningless to myself and my kind, to the extent that we did not even bother keeping track of it, and so even I am not truly aware of exactly how old I am-though perhaps a better term would be "how much time has passed since my awakening," considering the amnesia that is the curse of my kind-nor how long it has been since the first of us began her search.

Like so many other things about me, that has changed now, and when I consider the likely cause it is hardly a surprise. Before Earth, I associated largely with my own kind, and our social customs were often a formal, distant thing; we saw each other more as a whole than as individuals, and everything we did was in pursuit of the common good, a task which I now continue as the last of us. There was camaraderie, and even affection, but it was unlike that which I learned among the people of Earth during my time there.

It is the lack of both kinds of companionship, that of my kind as well as that of Earth's people, that has made my journey different from before. I am alone now, my species extinct to my knowledge save for myself, gone forever, never to share my travels with again. How unfortunate that only after that catastrophe was I made aware of another way than that I had known. A more personal, individual bond with those who called me their friend, and who in time I called friends as well. Those who taught me the meaning of happiness.

I miss them. It may not seem like such a significant admission to make, but to me it is a strange thing, one which took me many stars to fully comprehend. Though I have left Earth and its people behind, the memories of what I knew there continue to haunt me, and likely will so long as I live. It is this that has made my journey seem so much longer and bleaker than it was before, especially now that my own species are no longer with me. I now bear a second burden, in addition to that which I awakened with. Loneliness.

Despite the pain it causes me, however, I would not abandon this weight for all the worlds that have ever existed and all that ever will. Pain only comes when what is lost has meaning, and the source of my solitude is meaningful beyond my ability to convey in text. At times I wonder, had the tragic end of the age of Robot Masters not occurred, if I would have been able to return to this search at all. With my species lost, it is entirely plausible that I would have surrendered this duty in order to remain with the people who had changed everything for me.

Again, I feel regret at the recollection of these events, and again my first impulse is to end this log, or to turn to another matter. Yet, in one of my previous entries, I said that eventually I would explain what occurred on that dreadful day, and perhaps the time has come for me to keep my word on that account. If nothing else, once I have discharged my memories into this log, it will be done, and I will no longer have that sword above my head. It may be best to do so, and to move on, for the longer I wait the more difficult it will become.

I have always been what the people of Earth refer to as a realist; unsurprising, perhaps, considering my circumstances. Rather than being swayed by either optimism or cynicism, I examine the facts of everything I encounter, as calmly and logically as possible. With that mindset, I was hardly surprised by the prospect of the end of the age of Robot Masters. Earth's history was a testament to such things, the end of one age leading to the beginning of the next, and it seemed only a matter of time before the cycle repeated itself once more.

What I did not foresee was the exact manner in which the march of history would assert itself. Though at times, the future has revealed itself to me, this was one occasion in which I remained unaware until far, far too late. And though it pains me more than any physical injury, I must wonder if this was for the best. Had I known how the tale of the families of Light and Wily would end, I might have done what I should not have, and acted directly to change the course of history. I might have done what no other robot at the time could, for I alone was not bound by the First Law of Robotics.

I might have killed Dr. Wily before he completed his demon.

The crimson demon. That is what we called him, for we knew not his true name. Even Bass, his older brother, was not told of it by their shared father. What we knew was that he was created as a counterpart to Dr. Light's own final creation, the first of a new generation of robots, ones as far from the Robot Masters as they were from automations. Robots unrestrained by the Laws of Robotics, fully capable of thinking, feeling and making their own decisions. Mega Man X was his name, and he was a dream of the future, for he would not awaken until long after the Doctor's passing.

He was a secret even from the doctor's own family, let alone friends such as I, until the day when destiny finally claimed its price for the new age to come. Unsatisfied with his own creation as an equal and opposite to Dr. Light's, Wily went even further, and though even I do not know quite what it was he did, the results were horribly apparent. The demon's first action upon activating and being instructed to slaughter the Lights was to turn upon his master, tearing apart dozens of Robot Masters before finishing his patricide.

Only Bass and his robotic wolf, Treble, escaped in order to warn the Lights that the destroyer would soon be upon them. Shaken both by that dreadful threat as well as the news of his former partner's death, Dr. Light chose that night to reveal X's existence to all who were present, myself among them. The next day, we would stand together against the last and greatest threat of the Robot Rebellions. Mega Man, Proto Man, Bass, Auto, and myself, with the additional help of Rush, Treble, Beat and Eddie. Even Roll chose that time to finally join her brothers in combat.

Twenty-four hours later, it was over. All was over, and those few of us who had survived were left with nothing but ashes and mourning. The demon had been defeated, but at a terrible cost. Only Auto, Treble, Dr. Light and myself remained, the rest destroyed in the final battle. Killed. The family who had saved the world so many times over, slaughtered. And because of the future sight that was my burden, I was forced to deny the survivors even their vengeance. I saw that one day, the one who had massacred my closest friends would be necessary for the world, and all who lived upon it.

I did not know why. I did not know how. All I knew was the Wily's final son could not die here. And so I took his unconscious form and sealed him away in a hidden place, unknown even to father and son of Light, and sealed him away. Thirty years later, after Mega Man X's awakening, the demon would return... and despite the seeming impossibility of such a thing, he would become X's greatest ally and closest friend against an even greater darkness than that of the Robot Rebellions. One that they would face together, for the sake of the world.

Much time has passed since then, and unless my own internal clock is faulty, that day has now come on the planet I left behind. But it is no business of mine, for once I performed that final task, leave it I did. The future is in the hands of the one who so many lives were given to protect, and the one who took those very same lives. It is in the past, and I have my own task to fulfill. I can only hope that both they, and I, are successful, as I move into the future.

**November 9, 2185, 9:00 AM **

**Maverick City **

It was a sensation he would never get used to, coming back from the dead.

The last thing he remembered was the Crimson Hunter bringing his blazing green beam saber down upon his neck, and then in a flash of light and pain he was opening his eyes inside a tank full of gel. As he struggled with the shock and confusion, before he could recover, the Virus struck immediately, flooding his consciousness and corrupting his thoughts. Unsurprising, considering how he'd almost been able to fight it the last time. It wasn't taking any chances with him any more.

This time, he gave in and let it happen. Now was not the time to waste his last few shreds of will, not when there would be no meaning in doing so. For now, he simply surrendered himself to it once more, and allowed its insane directives to rewrite his mind. **Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy. Infect. Survive. Destroy, infect, survive, destroy, infect, survive, **_**destroy, infect, survive, destroy, infect, survive... **_

The gel drained, and the transparent plasteel lowered. And he waited for the cleansing sonics before he stepped out into the Generals' Reincarnation Chamber, as his former subordinates and current colleagues Bit and Byte had named it, in a city teeming with even more Maverick life than the suburb he'd once ruled.

"Doctor Doppler, sir!" A functionary saluted him. "Is there anything you require?"

"Who else is currently here in the Sigma Building?" He asked, glancing his way.

"Who else?" The useless time-server repeated, obviously uncomprehending.

"Among the top brass, you dolt!" He snapped. "Everybody my rank or higher!"

"Of course, sir!" The moron yelped. "Lord Sigma will return later, but he's out at the moment, as is General Dynamo. Generals Violen, Serges, Agile and Double are here, however."

"Double's back?" A more familiar voice responded as the doors open, and Agile walked in, Serges at his side. As always, the lanky purple reploid was smiling sardonically, his blood-red eyes squinting in a way that made him appear all the more deranged. "We should go invite him, too, then! Who knows, maybe he'll even come this time!"

"That'll do, flunky," Serges added. "We'll take it from here. Welcome back, Doctor. Who was it who got you?"

"The one named Willow, from the Scion's Zenith," Doppler lied, grimacing, as the goon saluted and fled; he wasn't going to spread the word of who it was that had ambushed him until _after_ he'd broken that unfortunate news to their leader. "And they wonder why some of us could stand for a little more gender equality in the top ranks. Ferret was talking out of his ass about _that _group."

"As has become readily apparent." Agile rolled his eyes. "That greaser boyfriend of hers from New York fought _me _to a draw."

"He got killed before he learned all that much about them," Serges pointed out. "He's just the only one who was alive in their time period at all. He warned us about that when he told us what he knew, remember?"

"He did, didn't he?" Doppler admitted, slightly disappointed but forced to admit it by his own standards; as long as they didn't interfere with its Prime Directives, the Virus usually didn't care about those, unlike morals. "I do remember that."

"I don't, but hey, that's nothing new," Agile said with a self-deprecating shrug. "You two are the ones with the brains coming out your ears to compensate for your lack of fighting prowess, relative to the rest of us. I'll take your word for it."

"Gee, thanks, Agile," Serges snarked. "Glad to know you had such confidence in me."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"Have there been any major changes on the war front?" Doppler asked, wanting to head that off before it went too much further; he'd seen how long the two of them could go on if anybody else around made the mistake of letting them, aside from Violen, who was just as bad.

"Nothing major, no," Serges told him. "Your boys over at Toronto have been keeping the siege going without you. Haven't gained any ground, but haven't lost any either."

"Well, that's one bit of good news, then," Doppler growled. "I'm going to need that when I report to Lord Sigma about my death."

"Look on the bright side," Agile suggested. "He'll be back before Dynamo will."

"A valid point." The Doctor grimaced. "Still, I suppose I'll probably want to get it over with, especially if he's going to kill me again."

"He won't be _that _angry," Serges said, stroking his chin. "Be a waste of resources, killing you again as soon as you wake up, and despite the appearances this city was designed for, we really shouldn't be wasting those."

"Also a good point," Doppler admitted, nodding politely this time; more than any of his new comrades, he'd developed an enormous personal respect for Serges' intelligence and ability, a match for his own. "All the same, I should see if I can get some work done before he returns. It won't do me any good, but it's worth a shot all the same."

"Probably," Agile agreed. "Stick around once you're done, though, huh? You can head back to the front tomorrow. We're going to be sort of taking advantage of our status in this city over at the Dead Man's Chest."

"Another party?" Doppler guessed, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, the Virus has been letting us get away with it," Serges said off-handedly, though his eyes were suddenly scrutinizing Doppler for a reaction. "Unlike when we were all younger. Most likely thanks to Lord Sigma. Why not take advantage of that?"

"So, that's your theory as well, is it?" Doppler murmured, unsurprised; he'd been wondering how long it would be before one of the others brought up the topic of their Emperor's increasingly frequent conversations with empty air. "I'd come to the same conclusion. Does anybody else know? Aside from Violen, of course?"

"I like the way he doesn't even have to ask about that one," Agile remarked idly to Serges before responding. "No. You're the first one we've broached the subject to. Perhaps we should ask Double as well, if he attends tonight."

"Perhaps." Doppler thought it over before nodding. "Knowing Double, there's a good chance he won't give a shit, but that's the worst it'll get. Then again, you never really do know with him."

"This conversation is giving me a headache," the lanky purple Maverick groaned, turning around. "I'm going down to the training room to do something more fun. Come on, Serges, let's see if we can get you to suck less."

"Just for that, I'm running you down as soon first chance I get," Serges shot back as the two of them left. Doppler stared after them for a moment, stroking his beard as his mind raced, before shaking his head and leaving as well.

He spent the next nine hours in his laboratory, adjacent to Serges' on the tenth floor of the Sigma building. Despite the commentary of their fellow generals, the two of them were a match for anything short of X or King-or Zero, now-but that wasn't their true contribution to the Maverick cause. No, _their _greatest strength was in the field of science, and Doppler vastly preferred that activity to the war he had been revived to serve in. His creations were numerous and myriad, each of them an asset on the battlefield, and the Mavericks under his command were all too glad to make use of them.

Eventually, however, another functionary informed him that Sigma had returned, and was currently in his office. Sighing, Doppler set his current projects aside and took the elevator up to the top floor; there was no point in delaying the inevitable, after all. Nodding to the guards standing at either side of the double doors, he waited for them to open them and walked inside.

"Doctor," the Immortal Maverick greeted him without turning. He was standing behind his desk, staring out through the transparent sheet plasteel of his office's back wall, over the city he'd reclaimed for their burgeoning civilization. "Join me."

"As you command, Lord Sigma," Doppler said quietly, walking around the desk to stand at his side. The sun was setting, painting everything a red that the Virus in his mind immediately equated to the sea of blood they were spilling over the world; before his infection, Doppler would have found the comparison hideous, but now, it brought a smirk to his face despite the dread he felt at the incipient conversation.

"Look at them, Doppler," Sigma murmured. "Civilization. Actual Maverick civilization, as a means unto itself. How long have we all waited, and dreamed, for this? And now, at last, the dream becomes a reality."

"Indeed it does, Lord Sigma," Doppler agreed cautiously, wincing as a piece of heavy construction equipment plowed through the side of a half-rebuilt building below. "Though it seems, as always, that there are a few speed bumps on the road to progress. I'll deal with that. A few object lessons will ensure that it is not repeated."

"By all means." Sigma nodded, smiling in a manner entirely unlike the psychotic grins or superior sneers Doppler was used to from him. Oddly, he found himself remembering the stories he'd heard of his master's days as Commander of the Maverick Hunters, and for the first time, he saw why men would have followed him by choice rather than enslavement. "I have the utmost faith in your abilities, despite your recent loss."

"My apologies, my lord." Doppler winced a second time; he'd been wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. "My failure was inexcusable. I will accept any punishment you deem appropriate willingly."

"Perhaps." Sigma glanced at him, still smiling. "That depends on the circumstances. Which one was it who brought you to your knees?"

"That... is somewhat of a complicated issue," Doppler explained cautiously. "I know this is impossible, my lord, but-"

"Lord Sigma!" Another Maverick burst into the office, and they both turned to look at him, surprised. "A thousand apologies for the intrusion, but I bring news from the front, terrible news of the utmost importance! A message from the Faithful!"

"Oh?" Sigma replied, unshaken. "Have they encountered some... trouble with their work? That would be most distressing."

"My lord..." The messenger stammered, pale and trembling. "The Faithful say... that Mega Man X engaged Lord Omega outside the walls of London, and... defeated him!"

Doppler was unable to prevent himself from drawing in a quick, startled breath, but said nothing, as Sigma was silent for a moment.

"Are you saying that Omega is dead?" He asked slowly.

"I..." The messenger gibbered. "I do not know, my lord, but he is no longer among the Faithful. And..." He swallowed before continuing. "And... our own men have reported... that the former Captain of the 00 Unit has been seen among the Hunters once more, in Dublin! They say that Zero has returned!"

"It is true," Doppler confirmed, before biting his lap and glancing at his master. Sigma was perfectly still now, as motionless as a statue, and neither of the other two said anything more. They simply waited in silence for his response, as seconds dragged on, painfully slowly in the sunset-tinted office. Still he simply stood there, and Doppler's tension grew more and more, as the rage he anticipated failed to manifest.

And then, finally, Sigma did something far more frightening than the wrath they'd expected. He began to laugh.

"My lord?" The messenger asked, stepping back, as the laughter continued, slow at first but increasing in both pace and volume as it went on.

"Lord Sigma?" Doppler whispered, but Sigma ignored them both, that strange smile now gone, replaced by a more familiar rictus.

"Of _course_," the immortal Maverick said at last, once his mirth had apparently run its course. "Yes, yes, of _course _it would come to this. It _had _to. It was only a matter of time. Our business is yet unfinished, him and X and I... and you as well, my dear Mab. Wily has his war to fight... and we have ours. Yes, this is perfect. I _thought _that everything was going a little _too _well. This should help to balance the equation a little more. It was him, wasn't it, Doctor? _Zero _was the one who killed you. That's how you knew."

"It was," Doppler admitted cautiously. "I was not sure how to tell you. What would you have us do, my lord?"

"Do?" Sigma turned his gaze upon him once more, his grin still savage. "Spread the word, Doppler. Tell our comrades of the Crimson Hunter's return, and to be ready to face him upon the battlefield, for he will certainly join the fight soon enough. I wonder, however... which of the two factions that oppose us will he belong to?"

"He'll join the Hunters, my lord," Doppler told him, before frowning, still unsettled by his master's behavior. "Won't he?"

"Perhaps," Sigma agreed, turning back to the window. "Then again, perhaps not. Let us see... yes, let us see indeed." He paused, tilting his head to the side as if listening to something before continuing. "Oh, come now. Don't be so cross. Look at it this way. Now we are no longer bound to your father's whims in regards to him. _We _will choose the time and place to make him yours once more, now." Again he paused. "Yes, I _thought _you'd like that." A thought seemed to strike him, and he glanced over his shoulder at the terrified goon. "How did Wily react to this news?"

"The Faithful did not say, my lord," the messenger blurted.

"No, I suppose they wouldn't," the Maverick Emperor murmured. "Very well. You may leave us." He waited until the door had slammed before continuing. "You as well, Doctor. Enjoy tonight's festivities, with our blessing, but be sure you're back to the front tomorrow. I want that wall down by next spring at the latest."

"As you command, my emperor," Doppler promised, so shaken that he didn't even register exactly what Sigma had said. Only once he was back in the elevator and descending, his thoughts a morass of shock and confusion, did he remember Agile and Serges' offer. Suddenly, it seemed more appealing than it had ever been before, and he continued to the ground floor instead of returning to his lab. Extensive socialization had never been one of his personal pleasures, but there were other benefits to such things.

By the time he reached the nightclub with the gaudy neon sign reading "Dead Man's Chest," the sun had finished its departure, and the stars twinkled in the darkness overhead. Maverick City still bustled with just as much life, however; that much hadn't changed since it had been named Las Vegas. The city never slept, a fact that became abundantly clear as Doppler walked in the front doors and winced at the loud jazz music being performed live. He actually liked that particular genre, but the band's talent was average at best.

"Hey, there he is!" A crude, booming voice greeted him, and he glanced to the left side of the room to see a peculiar sight; Violen without his armor, clad in street clothes that looked particularly strange on his bestial frame. A sort of private lounge seemed to have been set aside from the dance floor and bar, numerous couches and recliners scattered around the tables, and all three of the former "X-Hunters" were there, the other two dressed as casually as Violen; each of them rested on a couch, which they shared with one or two women.

"Glad you could make it," Serges called over, not rising; his arms were around the waists of his girls, and he showed no signs of removing them any time soon. Like Violen, he and Agile were both wearing jeans and hoodies, the latter advertising what looked like a basketball team from Dallas, most likely some sort of obscure joke that he was missing. "Come on over, take a seat and have a drink or ten."

"I could use it," Doppler admitted, crossing over. "Ten and more."

"Well, you've come to the right place for it." Violen chuckled, an arm draped over the shoulders of his own pair of women; two more were already approaching Doppler, one bearing a bottle, the other a tray of glasses. "Relax. These girls have been wanting to meet you for a while, now, ain't that right?"

"Oh, my, yes." One of them smiled, an attractive humanoid model, pale and elegant with long, dark hair. "I'm Jess, and this is Flora. Some whiskey, Doctor? Or would you prefer something else? The bar's fully stocked."

"Whiskey would be fine, thank you," Doppler replied, slightly awkwardly; it had been a long time since he'd had much experience with the fairer sex on a personal level, and even then, it had hardly been notable. "Thank you, ladies, but there's no need for..." He trailed off as the other one put a finger to his lips.

"We're here because we _want _to be, Doctor," Flora explained; she was a feline model, but her body was still close enough to human to be attractive despite her somewhat bestial features. "Like Violen said, the two of us have been hoping you'd drop by. You could say we're fans of your work. There's something so... _interesting _about a man with a brilliant mind, isn't there?" This was directed towards Serges' girls, who both nodded.

"Oh, my, yes," one of them agreed, leaning her head against Serges'. "Although tastes do vary, I suppose." Her smile widened as she glanced at Violen's companions.

"I'm changing the subject right now," Agile chimed in. "I know where _that's _going, and I don't need to hear it."

"Thank you," Doppler grumbled, waiting for his first glass to be poured before downing it in one go; the girls were sitting on either side of him now, and despite a lingering sense of uncertainty about that, he wasn't going to argue further. "Another, please."

"Interview with the boss went _that _badly, did it?" Agile guessed.

"Something like that," the doctor answered noncommittally. "I'll tell you later. No sense in spoiling the mood." He glanced around. "Has Double put in an appearance?"

"He said he might show up later," Violen explained. "You know Double, though. He'll probably just sit by himself in the corner muttering about how we're all being stupid. That this ain't how Mavericks should be acting. Worse than Ferret, I'm telling you."

"He'll loosen up once we get enough booze into him," Agile predicted. "I'm gonna try and see if I can get him to agree to sit in on the next propaganda commercial. We're gonna film another one soon."

"Remind me to be away at the time," Doppler said with a perfectly straight face.

"Come on, they're not that bad." Violen chuckled. "Besides, last I heard, they're actually _working_. We're getting _volunteers_."

"Wait, what?" Doppler blinked. "Some poor morons are actually _falling _for those?" The other three all nodded gravely, and after a moment he motioned to the girls to pour him another shot.

"I hear the humans are doing something stupid," Agile told him. "That might account for it. Besides, more of 'em is a _good _thing. Doesn't matter where they came from once they're in, does it?"

"I'm gonna give you some advice, Doctor," Serges told Doppler, smiling. "Don't go overthinking _everything_, you know? Sometimes, it's nice to just kick back and forget about tomorrow. Even those stick-up-the-ass Hunters do it sometimes, I hear, and if _they _can manage, _we _sure as hell ought to."

"Perhaps you're right," Doctor Doppler said as Jess and Flora both moved a little closer to him, feeling strangely at peace with the world, if only for what he knew would be an all-too-brief interlude in the bloody life of a Maverick.

"Hey," Agile said then, a strange look on his face as he looked around, as if seeing their surroundings for the first time. "Wait a second here."

"What?" Violen asked.

"We've turned into fucking _Disney villains_."

Nobody said a word for several moments.

**January 1, 2186, 2:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

Despite the fact that a new year had dawned, there was little cheer or celebration to be found at the MHHQ; with what might very well be the last war humanity and robotkind would ever endure still ongoing, nobody had much time or interest for such things. The closest anybody had come, to Signas' knowledge, was sneaking in a bottle or two to spend the night on base with longtime friends or a significant other, making the most of what they had before returning to the fight. He himself had simply turned in at his usual time, his responsibilities too heavy to even consider such things.

Now, he sat behind his desk, alone in his office, staring at a projection of the globe that identified all remaining bastions of civilization along with their current status. Despite the stunning victory Mega Man X had achieved near the end of the year, the war effort continued to grow more and more grim. Caracas had fallen a week ago, leaving twenty-five locations left to oppose the armies out of Maverick City and the Devil's Sea.

In particular, North America and the region where eastern Europe met western Asia were both almost completely barren of friendly life by now. Unsurprising, considering the locations enemy capitals; Sigma was enough of a strategist to make the area surrounding his own city a high priority, and Wily was no fool either. The only upside readily apparent at the moment was that incursions into eastern Asia had been minimal, and there had been no sign of hostile activity in the area immediately surrounding Japan at all so far.

Signas had his own private suspicions about that, ones based on his knowledge of Wily's past; despite his genius, the mad doctor had apparently preferred showmanship to strategy when it came to choosing between the two, and all indications were that Sigma bowed to his decisions despite their claims of equal partnership. Even so, there was no point in taking chances; whether by land or by air, if anything hostile came within a hundred miles of Japan, he would know about it within the minute. What he would _do _about it once he did was another story entirely.

Eventually, he shook his head and closed the program; there were no new changes to be made to their current deployment today. Clearing his mind, he considered what to do next before calling up Prime Minister Kakei.

"Signas," the politician greeted him, smiling despite the obvious stress that now filled every moment of his waking life.

"Minister," Signas replied soberly. "You wished to speak with me?"

"I did." Kakei let the smile drop. "Is it true, Signas? Have we lost Caracas?"

"We have," Signas confirmed. "And Morocco is now under siege as well, or will be shortly. The enemy are currently in the process of deployment." He waited for the Prime Minister's storm of curses to finish before continuing. "Mecha has already responded, and we'll be sending two Units to join them later today."

"Thank you, Signas, but I'm afraid that will come as cold comfort to my colleagues, through no fault of your own," Kakei told him, eyes still flashing. "_Damn _them all, they really mean it, don't they? They're not going to stop until every last one of us is dead. Every human or uninfected reploid on the face of the Earth."

"It seems that in that regard, at least, Wily was honest," Signas agreed.

"That's a laugh," Kakei muttered sourly, anger turning to depression as quickly as it had come. "_Him _being honest." He sighed. "It's all falling apart on us, Signas. Millennia of human civilization, along with reploids and robot masters, and it's vanishing around us one city-state at a time."

"We haven't lost yet, Minister," Signas reminded him. "We still live, and as long as we live, we will fight."

"I know, Signas, I know," Kakei agreed, but his eyes and his tone told a different story. "But we don't have any actual way to win. A defensive war against overwhelming odds with no way out... you know how that ends as well as I do."

"We are considering ways to launch our own offensives," Signas told him. "The enemy have their targets, as do we. Maverick City and the Devil's Sea are out of the question, but there are other options. Factories they've rebuilt, to add to their numbers and their equipment. Their losses _are _much heavier than ours. Perhaps if we can cripple their ability to replenish their forces, it will at least slow them down, and maybe in time..."

"Perhaps," Kakei murmured, meeting Signas' eyes. "I'll tell the others that. If nothing else, it might get them off the topic of drastic measures."

"More drastic than we've already taken?" Signas asked, his office suddenly feeling much colder than before.

"That's what I wanted to warn you of, Signas," Kakei explained. "As you said, the enemy capitals are both currently unassailable by conventional forces, but some of my colleagues have been suggesting the nuclear solution."

"Completely out of the question," Signas snapped, his own anger rising now. "Have those fools forgotten the state of the world? We've hovered on the brink of an uninhabitable planet ever since Eurasia's fall, and it's only grown worse since then. Even one more nuclear detonation would push us over the edge."

"I know, Signas, I know," Kakei admitted. "But between the war and the energy shortage, they're suggesting the possibility that all hope may be lost. That gambling on even our most dangerous hand may be preferable to the current state of affairs."

"Idiots." Signas shook his head. "That's not a gamble. It's suicide. And the fact that we'd be taking them with us will be cold comfort alongside extinction at our own hands. I need you to stop that, Kakei. Make them understand that that solution is no solution at all."

"I will do my best, Signas, but..." He sighed. "I'm afraid you're not the only one who knows that my intellectual gifts are somewhat lacking. It may be that you'll have no choice but to take that final step we discussed previously."

"Let us both pray that it doesn't come to that," Signas said, but found himself unable to actually disagree. "Thank you for warning me, Minister."

"Unlike some of us, I'm well aware of where our only hope truly lies," Kakei told him, smiling faintly once more. "Despite what it took to pound that through my skull. I'll let you get back to your duties, then."

"Until next time, Minister." Signas inclined his head before cutting the connection. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to consider the somber implications of their discussion before rising and leaving his office. The idiocy they'd discussed had filled him with a sense of rage that would inhibit any rational decisions until he was able to burn it off, and the best way to do that was immediately at hand, especially since Lassiter was on base at the moment. Beam foil in hand, he made his way down to the training rooms.

Only once he was there did he remember that he hadn't actually contacted Lassiter to convey his intentions. Sighing, he started to turn, then paused; one of the rooms was in use, and the door hadn't been sealed. Curious, he glanced inside, and realized that there would be no need to call up the Captain of the 00 Unit; he was already there, and already engaged in a duel with the only Hunter who'd ever been his superior with the beam saber. The only other Captain the 00 Unit had ever had in the entire history of the Maverick Hunters.

To interrupt, or make his presence known at all, would have been unthinkable; instead, Signas simply leaned against a wall and watched, arms folded. In seconds, he could already tell that the match before him was one set in a league entirely beyond his own. He'd proven himself a match for a Captain when it had counted most, but he knew Lassiter was far superior to him still, and likely always would be, no matter how much he practiced or how many times they went blade to blade. It was humbling, but hardly surprising; the Captains were all but required to be the best of the best, and the one leading the elite 00 all the moreso.

And yet, the gap he saw in skill was even greater than that between Lassiter's and his own. Though the Captain was keeping up-if only barely-it was obvious that his former leader still outstripped him in every regard. The Crimson Hunter's blazing green saber moved like a living bolt of lightning, flickering and flashing in a dozen places at once, and it was all Lassiter could do to defend himself. Not once was he ever able to take the offensive, as Zero continued to press him, slowly forcing him further and further back.

Though the match continued, the victor was already clear; the question then became not if Lassiter could actually win, but how long he would be able to last. Struck by that thought, Signas glanced up, and sure enough, a projector high in the wall displayed a timer counting up from a little over five minutes. Turning his gaze back to the duel at hand, he waited patiently until Lassiter's saber went flying, as did he, landing on his back and skidding across the floor with a deliberately shallow cut across his chest. The timer read ten minutes and twelve seconds.

"You've improved," Zero said, smiling approvingly, as he deactivated his saber and helped Lassiter back to his feet. "Sorry about the cut, but nothing less would have done it."

"You flatter me, sir," Lassiter replied, smiling slightly, and once more, Signas was struck by the oddity of visible age compared to the actual number in their kind. Though Lassiter looked to be twice Zero's age, the truth was the opposite and more. "Even if it was nice to beat my old record."

"Beat it?" Zero chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "You doubled it. No wonder you took over the Unit." He glanced over his shoulder at Signas. "And I heard you've been teaching the boss how to take care of himself, too."

"Indeed he has," Signas agreed, walking over now that he'd been invited to join the conversation. "I owe my life to his training once already, and I do not doubt that there will be other times before this conflict is finished."

"Yeah, I heard about that." Zero narrowed his eyes, his grin vanishing instantly. "Suzy, right? I remember her. Never would have figured her for a traitor."

"None of us would have, sir," Lassiter agreed. "But then, there wouldn't have been much point if she _had _been easy to spot."

"Guess not," Zero admitted, his scowl growing. "Same with the rest, I guess. You're taking care of that today, right?"

"We are," Signas confirmed. They'd set the purge for midnight tonight; loyal Hunters and Robot Masters would be taking all of the moles into custody at the same time. To avoid any possibility of a leak, only the top brass of both the MHHQ and Mecha knew that it would be taking place at all, and even they were unaware of who exactly was on the list; that was a secret to all but Lifesaver and Signas, until today.

"No point in wasting time, then, sir," Lassiter said grimly as he went to retrieve his saber. Picking it back up and holstering it on his back as Zero had, he turned back to Signas, folding his arms. "This room's clean. Me and the chief checked it to make sure before we got started. Is there anybody from the 00?"

"I'm afraid so," Signas told them, and the bleakness in their eyes was startling in how similar it made them look, despite the contrast in their appearances. "Goro."

"Shit." Zero spat on the floor. "I'd ask if you were sure, but I heard about how Lifesaver came up with that list, too, and even I can't argue with that."

"You aren't angry, then?" Signas asked cautiously; that had been one of his concerns ever since the Crimson Hunter had returned. "About how he did it?"

"What, by comparing them to my specs?" Zero smirked, though his eyes weren't in it. "Nah. He made the right call _that _time, no matter how much of an asshole he is." The smirk faded. "I am who-and what-I am. I've come to terms with that. And the way things stand right now, we can't afford to pussyfoot around that fact. If there's any way it can be useful to us, we need to take advantage of it. Spotting moles definitely falls under that category."

"All right, then." Lassiter nodded sharply. "With your okay, sir, I'll have four of the boys bring him in tonight."

"What do you need my okay for?" Zero asked, glancing at him. "You're the Captain of the 00 Unit now, not me."

"You haven't changed your mind about that, then?" Signas asked him quietly.

"No." Zero shook his head. "I'd appreciate it if it wasn't brought up officially, but no." He closed his eyes. "You can talk about extenuating circumstances all you want, but the fact of the matter is, I failed. I abandoned the Hunters. And no matter how good we are at sweeping it under the rug, _some _of them have opinions where I came back from."

"Not where _we _can hear them, they'd better not," Lassiter growled, eyes blazing. "And I know a bunch of folks in the other Units who'll back us up on that one."

"Thanks, Lassiter, but that's not the point," Zero explained. "Even if nobody says a word, that doesn't change how many Hunters I killed. It was one thing before I joined up in the first place. Now... I was just as much of a traitor as Suzy."

"I disagree," Signas told him. "And any Hunter who disputes that call can take it up with _me_, if they dare."

"Guys..." Zero looked away, and that was what really drove home that nothing they could say would change his mind. The Zero Signas had known before would have snapped by now, the constant anger hidden beneath the surface boiling over, but there was no sign of that at all. It had vanished, leaving something... someone... different behind, somebody who'd changed as much as any of them, if not more. "It's not about what they say. It's not about what they do. It's not even about what they think. It's about me. Who and what I am, like I said."

"And what is that, then?" Signas asked him quietly.

"The son of Wily," Zero said, just as softly. "I've been fighting that all my life, and it's only made it worse. We can't afford that any more. We can't afford me turning against you, ever again. I'm more of a threat than any of those moles. I'll still fight with you, as long as I'm alive. That duty is one I haven't abandoned, and I never will. But I'm not a Hunter any more." He glanced at Lassiter. "The 00 are yours, buddy. I just saw for myself that I don't need to worry about them, with you in charge. My place is with King, now."

"With your brother," Signas replied, as Lassiter nodded bleakly. "And what does your _other _brother think of this, Zero? What of X?"

"He'll understand, in time," Zero predicted. "He's not happy, but he can work with it. What counts is that we're all on the same side, and right now, we've got more important things to worry about. We'll figure out where we go from here _after _this war is over, if any of us are still alive at all. Right, X?"

"Right," X replied as Signas turned to see him standing in the door, face blank and eyes a mystery.

"Very well," Signas conceded; he knew when to. "I understand."

"Then we're not the only ones who've grown up, over the years." Zero smiled again, more weary than he had when he was younger, but with at least something of the same spark in his eyes. "Never thought I'd say this back when we first met, but it's good to be working with you again, Signas. I'll see you around." He bumped fists with Lassiter before heading towards the door, and the Second Blue Bomber turned to leave with him.

"X," Signas said, and he stopped, though he didn't turn.

"Yes?"

"Tonight's activities," Signas explained. "At midnight. Monking, from your Unit."

"Understood," X replied after a long moment, and then they were gone, leaving Signas and Lassiter alone in the training room.

"I don't suppose you'd be up for another round?" He asked quietly.

"Read my mind, Commander," Lassiter replied, as he drew his blade once more.

**January 1, 2186, 11:55 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"I hate this," Douglas remarked aloud as he paced back and forth in his office.

"I can't say I'm particularly pleased about it either," Alia replied; she'd dropped by half an hour ago, and had stayed since, though they hadn't really talked about much of importance. Sometimes, though, idle chatter was enough, especially when you were counting down the minutes to midnight. "Unfortunately, this was the best of our available options."

"I know, I know," Douglas admitted crankily, waving a hand. "I don't mean that. It's the waiting that gets to me, is all. Now that we're going to actually go through with this, I just want to get it over with, you know?"

"I understand." She nodded sympathetically. "Five more minutes."

"Yeah." He abruptly sat down behind his desk, an untidy mess covered in tools and blueprints, and ran a hand over his helmet. "It's still kind of hard to accept, you know? I mean, I trust Lifesaver, but Bunby's been working here for twenty years now. No matter how much I _know _the doc and the Commander are right..." He spread his hands.

After several months of waiting and monitoring the traitors, the time had finally come. Commander Signas had given his orders, and there was no turning back for anybody. Around the world as well as on base, preparations had been made for the moment of truth. At the stroke of midnight, Tokyo time, every Captain and department head would take their own traitors into custody, having told a select few under their command only hours before. It would be quick, neat and clean, a surgical strike with a minimum of time and fuss involved for all.

Of course, that didn't make it any more pleasant to sentence their own to death.

"How do you suppose I feel about Pipi?" Alia asked quietly. "I remember the first day that girl showed up. I taught her everything she knows about being a Navigator. And the entire time, she was a mole for an enemy we didn't even know existed." She shivered, eyes downcast. "I'll always remember that, now... and I'll remember that every time she thanked me and I told her I had high hopes for her future, she was waiting for the day she would stab me in the back."

"Yeah." Douglas frowned, looking at her more carefully now. Despite the obvious conclusion that her mood was due to the current topic at hand, his instincts told him that there was more to it than that. He hadn't really seen much of Alia in the last few months; they'd both been just as busy as everybody else with the war that had so suddenly become the focal point of their entire life, and neither had had much time for idle socializing. Now, he was wondering if he'd made a mistake in not checking up on her for so long. "This sucks. It really does."

"A blunt, but apt, way of describing the situation at hand," she agreed, not meeting his eyes.

"Hey, what can I say?" He cracked half-heartedly, forcing a smile. "I've got a way with words." When that failed to get a reaction, he stood up and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "All right, Alia. What's really bothering you?"

"What?" She looked up at last, blinking.

"This is more than just what's happening today," he told her, frowning again. "Something else is bothering you, isn't it?"

"It's nothing." She shook her head. "Don't mind me."

"I thought we already established that that doesn't work on me," he drawled, and to his surprise, he actually saw a flash of anger pass over her face.

"And if I tell you that it's none of your business?" She snapped.

"Then I'll back off," he said cautiously, doing exactly that, and stepping away. "But if it's bothering you _that _much, you should really talk to _somebody_ about it, if not me. I won't stick my nose in where it doesn't belong, but I _am _still worried about you, Alia."

"You've got more important things to worry about right now." She stood abruptly. "And so do I, for that matter. It's time we got moving."

"Looks like it," he agreed, shooting a glance at the clock before nodding resolutely. Even as he followed her towards the door, however, he made a mental note to tell Donia about his suspicions, and see if she knew anything more. Even if not, she might have better luck getting through to her boss than he had. For the moment, however, Alia was entirely right; there were more important things to focus on. "Let's get to it."

"-so I shot him," the subject of his final thoughts on the matter was saying as the two of them emerged from his office, and the group of Navigators and mechanics around her laughed appreciatively. There were eight of them in total, four of each, sprawled around the otherwise-empty garage, some sitting on the floor while others lounged on hoods or perched on crates. To the idle passerby, they would have seemed nothing more than a group of off-duty friends trading stories and rolling dice before heading off to stasis. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a straight line."

"Like that's the only straight thing she's a sucker for in that kind of situation," another Navigator-the short, flirty one named Fio-commented wryly, prompting more laughter.

"It's not nice, taking advantage of the incredibly inebriated like that," Leeroy, one of Douglas' mechanics, told Donia once that had died down, though the smirk on his face betrayed his real feelings on the matter.

"_I'm _not nice," she reminded them all, shrugging helplessly. "Besides, what else was I supposed to do? He asked for it. Literally." She glanced over her shoulder then, at the two of them, and all traces of mirth left her face instantly. "Looks like I'll have to finish the story another time, though. We doing this, then?"

"It's time." Alia nodded. "Let's get going."

"I'll hold you to that, girl," Ivan, a massively built Russian reploid, told her with a grin and a wink as the two groups split up, the mechanics joining Douglas and the Navigators going with Alia, heading towards different doors; their targets' quarters were in opposite wings. "Maybe over a pint or two at Pugs', yes?"

"In your dreams, big guy," she shot back before winking. "And _maybe _mine. We'll see."

"Do we have a confirmation on his location?" Douglas asked quietly as the five of them left the garage.

"Never thought I'd hear _you _saying something like that, boss," Leeroy muttered, the four of them flanking him like they were professional bruisers. All of them had armor, as well as their busters; they weren't exactly up to the standards of actual Hunters, but they _had _had some training, the course of wisdom in times as troubled as these. "Yeah, I saw him turn in myself, and Alia's girls and boys have been watching to make sure none of them slipped out again. He's in there, just like all the rest of them on base."

"Good." Douglas nodded. "Anybody going to have any problems with what we're doing?"

"I won't lie to you, boss," Sonia, a tough, rangy mechanic from the southern United States, said with a frown. "None of us are going to enjoy this. But it's gotta be done. If the doc and the Commander are sure about it, we're not gonna go doubting them." She sighed. "Shame, though. We always got along well."

"That was probably intentional," Douglas guessed, shaking his head. "As far as I can tell, that's the only common thread. They all went to a lot of effort to make friends. Makes sense, really, and it _doesn't _make this any easier."

"Easy isn't in the cards these days, boss." Leeroy, shrugged. "For any of us." He glanced upward at the overhead lights. "You know, for some reason, I kind of feel like the lights should be out or something."

"You've watched too many bad movies, Leeroy," Ivan told him flatly. "This is no time for such things."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," the smaller mechanic grumbled before falling silent. Nobody spoke again until they'd arrived at the door to Bunby's quarters. "All right, how are we going to do this?"

"Flank the door," Douglas instructed them, and they did so. "All right, on three, everybody in there. Get your busters on him right away, charged. If he makes any moves aside from what we tell him, blow him away. Taking him alive is preferable, but it's not absolutely necessary. There's enough moles that we can afford to lose some of them and still have enough to wring information out of. No taking chances."

"He's a dead man walking no matter how this goes, then," Ivan grunted. "I suppose we should have expected that."

"He was dead from the moment we found out about him." Douglas shook his head. "It's just a matter of now or later. Everybody ready?" They nodded. "All right, then. One, two, _go!_" As soon as the word had left his lips, they were moving, slamming through the door before it could even open and charging into the room as he'd told them.

"Wha?" The mechanic inside grunted, stirring in his stasis capsule as the lid opened. "Who the hell?"

"Don't move," Leeroy told him bleakly. "You've got four busters trained on you, all charged. Hands above your head. Slowly."

"Leeroy?" Bunby asked, frowning, his Australian accent even stronger than usual in his grogginess. "What's goin' on here? This some kind of joke?"

"Does it look like we're laughing?" Mikey, a blonde, tan hulk from California who specialized in sea vessels, growled. "Do what he said. Now. We're not screwing around here, Bunby."

"Shit!" The mole blurted, eyes widening, as he looked from one of them to another. "All right, all right! Just calm down, huh?" He did what they said, raising his hands in the air and making no moves to climb out of his capsule.

"We're cool as ice, buddy," Sonia said, her voice as cold as she claimed. "Good. Now out of the capsule, nice and steady."

"Okay, okay." Bunby lifted one leg out, then the other, the panic on his face almost enough to make Douglas doubt what he knew. Almost. "Will you just tell me what's going on here? Does the chief know about this?"

"That and more," Douglas said, stepping into the room. "Hate to break it to you, but the jig's up."

"Jig?" Bunby turned his gaze to him. "Chief? What is this?"

"Sorry, Bunby." He shook his head with genuine regret. "We know. Lifesaver spotted you and the rest months ago. We were just waiting for the right moment."

"I don't know what you're talking about, boss," the mole pleaded. "You're making a mistake, okay? You know me! Whatever this is, I'm not... whatever you think I am!"

"Faithful," Douglas said coolly. "That's what you are, Bunby. You're a double agent for the Faithful, and you always were, from day one. Like I said, we know. It's too late, and our hands are tied as much as yours are about to be. The only choice you've got left is whether you want to come along or not. It's up to you."

It happened so fast, he almost couldn't track it. All he saw was a sudden glint in the traitor's eyes, and then he was lunging straight for him. Before he made it two steps, all four of his fellow mechanics fired, and the storm of plasma slammed him back against the wall of his quarters. They kept firing after that, pumping shot after shot after him until there was absolutely no possibility of his survival, and even beyond that.

"All right, all right, that's enough!" Douglas told them eventually, and they stopped, leaving the room filled with smoke. Sighing, he took a look before nodding and turning away. "Yeah, we're done here."

"Should we-?" Ivan left it hanging.

"Leave it for the cleanup crew," he told them, and they nodded, turning and following him out.

The strangest thing was, he didn't even feel any differently than he had before.

**January 28, 2186, 10:00 AM **

**Riyadh, Saudi Arabia **

"Everybody ready?" Zero glanced over his shoulder at the Robot Masters under his command. It was somewhat surprising just how easily he'd gotten used to leading them instead of Hunters; already, the sight of thirty soldiers barely four feet tall was nothing unusual to him, no matter how ludicrous they looked riding Landchasers meant for reploids of the same proportions as humans. There was nothing silly about the looks in their eyes, however, and with a tight grin he turned his gaze back ahead of them again. "All right, then. Let's tear 'em up!"

They waited patiently at the city's north gate, until without warning, the massive plate of steel fully as thick as the walls around it rose, revealing the overwhelming enemy presence surrounding the city-state. Before they could realize what had happened, Zero led the charge with a whoop, and his Robot Masters followed him. The nose cannons in the bikes blazed to life, and the Faithful fell before them, even as the gate dropped back down the instant the last of the defenders had passed beneath it, closing the city off once more.

Despite their rate of fire, all too soon, they hit the enemy lines. Pulling a wheelie, Zero activated the plasma cutter on the front of the bike's underside, continuing to cut through them, and the Robot Masters followed suit. By then, of course, the Faithful had recovered from their shock and were returning fire, a storm of plasma and mag-fire pouring over them from all directions. In seconds, his bike was already smoking, and with an oath he leaped off of it into the air, high enough to see their target twenty feet ahead.

"Idiots!" The Disciple named Blazin' Flizard screamed as his eyes met Zero's. "Massacre them!"

"Not happening," Zero snarled, drawing his saber before he even landed. In the instant his feet touched the earth, he blazed forward, right arm snapping out and bringing with it a streak of blazing green death. He didn't bother looking as he passed between four Faithful, all converging on him, but just a little too slow. He'd killed them all in passing, and was already moving on to finish another one with a rising slash he'd copied from Agile, when the two of them had clashed a month ago. He'd learned it quickly; it was all too similar to other moves he'd taken from fallen Mavericks in the past.

"Morning, sunshine," he quipped as he twisted in mid-air and brought his beam saber down towards Flizard, who blocked it with his right arm, plasma forming around his hand like a gauntlet and repelling the blade. Knocked back into the air, Zero backflipped and landed on his feet even as Flizard charged, blocking his plasma-filled punch with his blade. "Sleep well?"

"Better than you did, I'll wager, _Lord Omega_," Flizard hissed. _That _earned him an automatic response that he was barely able to catch in time, and which still sent him skidding backwards. Pressing the attack as his Robot Masters cleared the area around the two of them, Zero slashed at him so quickly that the Disciple was clearly unable to keep up. Taking several wounds across his torso, Flizard fought to block even one without exposing himself to an instant death, and when he did, he dash-jumped backwards and away.

"Should have known I'd need to do this just to stand a chance against _you_," he spat, even as he began to transform. Grotesquely, he almost seemed to turn inside out, one or two pieces at a time; arms and legs and head and torso all twisted themselves inwardly, ripping his white and gold uniform to shreds in the process. Tanned skin became scaled red metal, a long tail lashed behind him, and a broad frill sprouted as he crouched forward, claws raking the air.

"I'm Blazin' Flizard, the Fire Disciple!" The crimson frilled lizard roared, as flamethrowers in both palms burst into life, filling the air between them. "Burn, all of you!"

Zero didn't bother retorting; having shed his human form, the Disciple was now at his most dangerous, which meant he needed to concentrate on his swordplay rather than his wordplay. Clutching his beam saber in both hands, he used Agile's Sonic Boom again, this time activating the rising cut's true power. The electromagnetic field containing the plasma gave way for just a moment along its forward edge, releasing a crescent of plasma that cut through the fire and continued on.

Swearing, Flizard leaped into the air over the wave, throwing out the bladed ring around his neck, five segments linked together in a rough approximation of a star's shape. Blocking it with his blade, Zero hit the ground first and immediately dashed forward to close the gap between them. Even as Flizard was landing, he was already using his flamethrowers once more, but Zero was attacking as well, repeating the move. Though fire washed over him from head to toe, he gritted his teeth and continued, his opponent a victim to his own inertia.

Flizard screamed as one arm flew, recoiling in shock and giving Zero enough time to drop and roll, his dash boots aiding his efforts. As soon as the flames covering him had died, he dashed again before even rising, barely avoiding another firebath from his enemy's remaining arm. Flipping back to his feet, he took one glance at the battle around him and swore; everybody's bikes were down, and most of them had taken severe injuries. There weren't any dead yet, at least not on his side, but from the looks of it that wouldn't be long coming.

"All right, move on to the next stage of the plan!" He yelled. "I'll catch up when I'm done here!" Turning back to Flizard, he dashed forward again as his enemy caught his neck frill, which had returned to him like a boomerang, and reattached it. Hearing him, the Robot Masters immediately complied, warping away before the Faithful could realized what they were doing. Scanning their warp signatures and identifying them, the EM bubble around the city dropped for the seconds necessary to allow them in before reactivating, repelling a few Faithful who'd tried too late to follow.

"_That _does it!" Flizard screamed as Zero bore down on him. "_Now _I'm pissed!" His neck frill began to spin rapidly as he turned his own flamethrower on it, sending scattered fireballs out in every direction. Most of them hit his own men, and they staggered back, screaming, but a few came Zero's way. Continuing forward, the Crimson Hunter dashed under the first, jumped the second, and brought his saber down on the motionless Flizard's neck even as a third took him the gut. Knocked back, he knew he would complete the cut regardless. The Disciple's life was his.

_Omega stared at her for a moment more, and then he nodded in acknowledgment, before granting her mercy with his sword, so fast that neither she nor her child would feel even an instant of pain. _

Twitching violently, he fell to the ground at Flizard's side, fighting the sudden urge to retch at the sudden memory, as real as the world around him. Two more fireballs hit him, knocking him off of his knees, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw the Faithful surrounding him, weapons raised. Swearing under his breath, he threw down his last resort, a Rakuhouha plasmic explosive, right at Flizard's feet before warping away. As the Faithful around him opened fire, he followed his men back, the barrier allowing him through as well.

"There he is," Heavy, a hulking Hard Man closer to his own size than most Robot Masters, grunted as he reappeared in their midst, back inside the city. "Told you the boss'd be fine."

"You got him, then?" Megaherz, a squat Spark Man, asked as the diodes that replaced his hands in combat situations shifted back.

"Don't know." Zero scowled, more angry at himself than anybody else. "I _think _I did, but I had to go before I saw. Didn't even have time to grab anything for Weapons Copy. Did we lose anybody?"

"Kidd didn't make it," Heavy told him quietly. "Sorry, boss."

"Shit." Zero spat. "And we don't even know if it meant anything."

"It did," King said as he walked around the corner of a nearby building, joining them in the square they'd returned to. The ruler of the Robot Masters had his own injuries, but none of them looked particularly severe. "The men atop the wall confirmed it. Blazin' Flizard is dead."

"Good." Zero sighed. "Then we've delayed them, at least." It was the best offensive strategy any of them had, at the moment; among other things, one common factor in both Mavericks and Faithful was that neither kind were as competent without officers commanding them. Taking out whoever was in charge may not have meant much in the long run, considering they always came back, but it bought them time. "How about you? Did you get Double?"

"Yes." King nodded gravely. "And without either of them, the enemy's threat will be greatly reduced."

"All right." Zero glanced over his shoulder at his men. "Go get yourselves patched up. And hey. Good work."

"Walk with me, brother," King said quietly. "I sense you are troubled."

"I'm-" Zero started to snap, more out of habit than anything else, before deliberately stopping himself. "Yeah, okay." The two of them set off down a mostly-empty street; despite the fact that the wall was still holding strong, the citizens of the world grew more and more frightened with every passing day. Once they were far enough away from everybody that they wouldn't be overheard, he spoke again. "Been a long time since I fought here. Hard to believe how much it's changed since then, but so's everywhere else, so."

"During Sigma's Sixth, correct?" King asked.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Asshole named Killer Koala. He wasn't bad in a fight." He glanced at his brother. "You guys kept on top of things, huh?"

"It was the course of prudence," King explained. "And if there is one thing that our father taught me that I do not regret, it was how to observe the world without being detected."

"You'd know about that better than I would." Zero spat to one side. "I never knew the bastard personally, and I can't say I'm too broken up about that."

"Once, there was something admirable about him," King recalled. "But by the time of my creation, any remnant of that was long gone."

"Sounds about right." Zero snorted. "I'd say I wished I could have known the _real _him, but if he hadn't snapped, he never would have created any of us in the first place. Bit of a catch-22 there, even if the world would have been better off."

"It's not easy, admitting that about your own existence," King told him, glancing his way, and he suddenly realized that his brother _knew _about what he'd seen in that brief moment between Omega and Zero. Rather than asking about it, though, the elder son of Wily simply turned his gaze to the streets ahead of them again. "But despite that fact... I'm glad we had the chance to meet like this."

"Yeah, yeah, cut it out." Zero snorted. "Save all that emotional crap for somebody else, huh? Never was my thing."

"As you wish." King shrugged, sounding amused, but when he spoke next, there was no humor in his voice. "It happened again, didn't it? Out there, today. Omega's memories still trouble you, at the worst of times."

"Right when it counted." Zero scowled. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the bastard was doing it on purpose, somehow. Making that happen with perfect timing." He looked to King sharply, as his own words struck him. "Is that possible?"

"It might be," King admitted after a long moment. "I am unsure. Of all of us, our sister's nature is still largely a mystery, even to I. There are many thing about her, and the contamination that comes with her touch, that only our father knows."

"Shit." Zero clenched his fist. "I smacked him down harder than ever before, this time... and he's _still _in my head." He stared at his brother. "How do you do it? You've dealt with this longer than even me." That was what had truly drawn him to King, though he'd never been quick to grow close to people. More than their shared creator, more than the war they fought side by side, it was the knowledge that King struggled with infection every day of his life just as much as he did that had truly driven home that the man in orange was the family he had never known.

"It's not quite as difficult, for me," King admitted. "The virus that infects me is an incomplete prototype, one without sentience. If it even has a mind at all, it is the mind of an automation, following its directives blindly." He opened one hand and stared at it, and for a moment, a lash of purple crept across his palm before fading away. "Even so... it is not easy. I only hold it back by devoting every waking thought of mine to those things for which I continue to live."

"I get it." Zero snapped his fingers. "_That's _why you're so obsessed with duty and shit, right? Because if you focus on that, it can't get to you. So you don't think about anything else, to keep it under control."

"You are essentially correct," King agreed. "Although my mind was naturally inclined along such lines already, which helped significantly. Even had it not been necessary, I am certain that my choices would have been the same." He smiled wryly. "Although doubting said choices has never been a habit of mine, for the same reasons. So long as I maintain absolute certainty, I limit its ability to creep in through doubts and hesitation."

"Pretty sure you'd have ended up that way anyways, too," Zero pointed out, smirking. "King and all."

"Highly likely," his brother conceded. "But though it may be arrogant, I believe my name and title are well-earned, by this point. That is my real motivation, the reason why I fight the virus. For them. For the people who I rule, and who I lead by example every day of my life."

"Yeah, it is," Zero told him bluntly. "But hey, nobody's perfect. You might be arrogant, but at least you're not a prick about it."

"I will take that as a compliment," King murmured, still smiling slightly, though not for long. "And you, Zero? What is it that drives you to continue, even in the darkest of times? Why is it that you fight, against the enemy and against yourself?"

"That's another thing that's changed." Zero looked down. "Before, there wasn't all that much to it. I did it because it came natural, and because I was good at it. Oh, there was a reason I did it as a Hunter, and not just because that was where I woke up. I made the world a better place, you know? Saving innocent lives and taking Maverick ones. Helped me sleep at night, even if I knew deep down, it was for myself as much as anything else." He closed his eyes. "I enjoyed it. I hate to admit it, but it's true. I _liked _the violence. And I was the best there was at it."

"But that's changed, you say?" King pressed him.

"Yeah." Zero grimaced. "Because of Omega. I can't allow myself to do that, any more, or I'll be leaving myself wide open to that. It took me this long to figure that out, but maybe I always was, even back then. Maybe that's why I've never been able to completely purge myself of this goddamn Virus." He shook his head. "And I can't afford that these days. Even if it's too late for me to ever be free. As Hazil said once, it's time for me to grow up, dammit."

"I may not be the most objective judge, nor the best informed," King said quietly. "I never knew you before, so my ability to compare your past state to your present one is by definition one-sided. But from what I can see, you've been doing well so far."

"Yeah?" Zero shot him a grin. "I'll take that, from you. Thanks, bro." He dropped the smile as quickly as it had come. "Still strange, to me. Having a brother by creation, rather than adoption." He looked upward. "Is _he _around?" They both knew who _he _was.

"No." King shook his head. "He only visits me in the Dark Hall, and then only at certain times. I assume there are reasons, but like everything else about him, much is a mystery. The dead cannot reveal the truth to the living."

"Makes sense." Zero shrugged. "If he could do anything more, he probably would have, by now." He paused then, putting his thoughts in careful order before continuing. "I _think _I met him, while I was dead. I can _almost _remember something about that, about him. But it never quite comes to me." He sighed. "Piss on it all. I think I preferred it back when I didn't believe in shit like this. Before all this supernatural crap."

"It complicates things," King agreed quietly. "But the truth is, it was there all along. We can close our eyes to it, or we can accept it, but our lives... and fates... are written regardless."

"Aren't they all," Zero muttered, glad for his brother's presence despite his dark thoughts, as they walked on, in a city living on borrowed time.

**March 23, 2186, 3:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Yoo hoo!" Donia's voice came from the other side of the door to Alia's quarters, along with the sound of her knuckles rapping on it. "Ready to go?"

"I'm coming," Alia called back, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before walking out. Rather than her armor, she wore a casual black dress with a red coat over it, one of the few outfits her closet space allowed; the effect was only slightly spoiled by her ever-present reploid boots. Like all of the top brass, her personal quarters were more spacious than the grunts, but military lodging was still military lodging, and her apartment was more cramped than most people would have preferred. Shrugging, she picked up her purse and headed out.

"Hey, not bad." Her best friend looked her over critically, smirking; she was dressed down as well, in her case a sweater-skirt combination that worked oddly well with her slightly punkish appearance. "See, and you thought you wouldn't be able to pull it off."

"I don't quite recall _that _particular objection, actually," Alia commented drily as they walked down the hall towards the MHHQ's front entrance. "The way I remember it, my concerns had more to do with the pragmatism of taking the time for something like this, not to mention justifying the expense. We _do _still have this war at hand, you know."

"All the more reason to take advantage of whatever leave we can get, girl," Donia replied, stretching her arms behind her head in a way that suddenly attracted the attention of several male passersby. "We're off until the evening, for the first time all month, and there's no hotspots at the moment. Let's act like it."

"And if something _does _come up?" Alia pointed out, more out of habit than anything else; they'd already had this argument before she'd even agreed to the excursion, and she'd already lost it.

"Then somebody'll call us, and we'll pop back in, warp our armor on and get back to work in under a minute." Donia shrugged, tapping the side of her headset, the only removable piece of military equipment they both still wore aside from their identification emblems. "That's why we've still got these on. We _are _professionals, after all, and we won't even have to pass through the EM shield to get from one place to another _inside _the city. Come on, relax."

"All right," Alia gave in, smiling, as they walked through the lobby, waving to Fio-who was on duty at the front desk at the moment-in passing. "I suppose it will be nice to get out of the base for a while."

"See, that's what I'm talking about." Donia led her over to employee parking, where her hovercar waited. "We might be military chicks, and sure, that means we pretty much have to be badasses nine days out of ten, but it's all right to be girly _sometimes_, you know? Especially with the way the energy shortage is going. Won't be much longer before places like this aren't even around any more at all. The way I see it, we should enjoy them while we can. Plus, from what Sue told me, this place's ciabatta's to die for."

"I can't believe you're taking restaurant advice from somebody in Mutt Unit," Alia murmured, getting into the passenger seat as Donia sat down behind the wheel.

"Hey, Sue's okay," she protested mildly, starting the car up. "When she hasn't had too much to drink, anyways."

"Your honor, the defense rests."

"Screw you."

Like every other city-state remaining, Tokyo had been affected by the outbreak of war, but fortunately, the effects weren't quite as bad as most other cities. There was somewhat less traffic than there had been before, both vehicular and pedestrian, but the streets were hardly deserted; the protection of the Maverick Hunters seemed to be more reassuring to those who they lived with than the rest of the world, and if the citizens were scared, it wasn't to the point of changing their society entirely. The drive was short, and they passed the time chatting about meaningless trivialities.

"All right, here it is," Donia pointed out, parking her car in front of a pleasant-looking little streetside cafe.

"I'm impressed," Alia replied, raising an eyebrow. "This actually does look fairly nice."

"Hey, what do you take me for?" Donia demanded, mock-offended, as they walked over and selected a patio table; there were several other groups of patrons, but not enough that the staff looked particularly pressed.

"You," she shot back without missing a beat. "I still remember the incident when we went to the _Telltale Heart_."

"_Once_," her friend protested, both of them taking a menu. "All right, then. Let's see what this place has." She glanced over as a waiter approached, then turned her eyes back to her menu. "Iced tea. We're gonna need a few minutes on the food."

"Make that two," Alia added, smiling as she looked at the waiter, though only momentarily; the look on his face wiped the expression off of hers.

"I'm sorry," he told them, the tone of his voice betraying his insincerity. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Huh?" Donia blurted, staring at him now. "What the hell?"

"We don't serve your kind here," he explained, sneering openly now, as he pointed towards a sign hung beside the front door, displaying the day's specials. Next to it were several awards, and it took Alia a moment to spot what he was referring to, an innocuous-looking notice indistinguishable from the rest until she actually read it. Until she saw the three letters, larger than the rest, at the top. Three letters hatefully familiar to any student of history, especially reploids and Robot Masters.

"Oh, you had _better _be fucking-" Donia started to snarl before Alia put a hand on her wrist.

"That particular group has been outlawed within Tokyo," she told the human coldly, now conscious of the glares the rest of the patrons were directing towards them.

"Outlawed by _your _kind," the waiter spat. "By you stinking reploids now that that traitorous Prime Minister's bowed down to your goons. And you filth think that makes you invincible. But _some _of us aren't afraid of the freaks you keep around to police your own kind. You'd better leave, or else something might-" He broke off as another waiter stormed out of the front, an older-looking man whose face was pale with both fear and anger.

"You idiot!" The other man hissed, stalking over. "Didn't you see the emblems? The _emblem__s_, you stupid asshole! _They're _Hunters!"

"No, no." Donia smiled wickedly as every the first waiter took a step back, looking much more apprehensive; the other customers suddenly seemed to all have somewhere else to be. "Keep talking. You were saying something about not being afraid of us?"

"You..." The waiter stammered, before regaining some of his nerve. "You can't touch us. Reploids are still forbidden to harm humans. That would make _you _Mavericks."

"It would," Alia agreed, calmly and coldly, as she met his eyes. "If anybody found out." She let that hang for a moment before continuing. "On the other hand, there's no point in taking risks. It might be easier just to tell our friends in the 13th about this. Our _human _friends. One of them referred us here, actually. She must have visited before you put that up. I wonder what she'd think if we told her. Or, if you'd prefer, we could simply report you to Commander Signas, and have him take _legal _action. What do you think, Donia?"

"Hm." She thought it over. "Tricky, tricky." Her smile widened. "Why don't we let _them _choose?"

"That won't be necessary," the older waiter told them quietly, his face carefully blank now. "We'll take it down. This won't happen again."

"It had better not," Alia told them icily. "From now on, consider yourself under watch. If a reploid so much as breaks a leg around this neighborhood, you're going to be the first place we come for information, and I wouldn't want to be you if you don't have any. Come on, Donia. Something about the air in here is making me sick."

"Yeah, it _does _kind of reek, doesn't it?" Donia agreed, waving a hand in front of her face as she stood as well. "Somebody oughta tell the health department. Let's go find someplace a little less rancid." They walked out together calmly without another word; only once they were back in the car did the other woman snarl a particularly vile oath and punch the inside of the door.

"Don't dent it," Alia told her, though she felt like doing the same. "It's a natural consequence of war, and in this particular one, it's hardly surprising that it takes this form, considering all of our enemies are robotic."

"Like I give a shit," Donia hissed. "It's the twenty-second fucking century, and people _still _aren't over this crap?"

"Some people never change." Alia shook her head. "We've dealt with that kind of discrimination all our life. The only difference now is a banner that's drawing all the scum out of the woodwork to flock to."

"And they wonder why Maverick recruitment is actually a thing now," Donia said quietly, her rage subsiding. "Shit." After a moment, she started the car again. "Come on, let's park this baby back at the MHHQ."

"Are we canceling our outing, then?" Alia inquired, slightly surprised. "Come now, you can't be _that _distressed."

"Hardly." Donia snorted crudely. "I just want to go somewhere I _know _is clean. They don't want us here? Fine. We'll go where they're not. Let's head on down to Mecha and hit the District Nine music hall. They've actually started serving food now that they've got reploids coming in every now and then."

"Are they open?" Alia blinked. "I would think they'd be busy elsewhere like the rest of us."

"Normally, they are," her friend explained. "But the Turbomen are all back on leave today, so the place is putting on a show, and all of a sudden I don't feel so ladylike any more. I want noise."

"That _does _sound rather appealing," Alia agreed. They spent the ride back in silence, still stewing over what had happened, and once they'd returned Donia's hovercar to its parking space they warped away, passing through one EM bubble and then another to land in the hidden city of the Robot Masters deep beneath the earth. Entering the music hall, they took a table near the back as the four identically-designed but differently-customized Robot Masters on stage played their music, a particularly raucous number at the moment.

"Good afternoon, ladies." A cheerful voice greeted them. "Can I take your order?"

"Beer?" Donia suggested.

"It's a little early, and we are going back to work," Alia reminded her before sighing. "Still, tempting." She turned to the waiter. "Iced tea for both of us, plea-" She cut off, eyes widening. "Bright Man?"

"Oh, hey, Alia!" The Cossack-built Robot Master smiled even wider. "Donia! Didn't recognize you two. First time I've seen you out of your armor!"

"We're in disguise," Donia wisecracked, glancing over the menu. "Is the pizza any good here?"

"I really wouldn't know," the Robot Master admitted, and she bounced her palm off of her face.

"Oh yeah, duh," she said, making a face. "All right, I'll try the barbecue chicken." She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you here. Not working, anyways."

"They were shorthanded," Bright Man explained, jotting the order down. "And I had a couple hours to kill before me and the guys head back to Rio."

"Fair enough." Alia glanced over the menu. "I'll take the chef's salad."

"Coming right up!" He winked before walking off.

"What, watching your weight?" Donia joked.

"I can hurt you," she replied calmly.

"Yeah, yeah." Her friend leaned back, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe this is better, actually. With this kind of racket, there's no chance anybody'll overhear us."

"I should have known there was an ulterior motive." Alia sighed. "All right, I can tell when I'm cornered. What is it?"

"You," Donia said bluntly. "I've been biting my tongue this long, but you've been moping around for months now, and as far as I can tell, you're not planning on stopping. So. What's the problem, and how can I help?"

"By minding your own business," Alia replied, eyes narrowing.

"See, I've been _trying _that," Donia reminded her. "And it hasn't been working. Which means it's time for a change of plans."

"Not as far as I'm concerned." Alia shook her head.

"Yeah?" Her friend kept her gaze locked on Alia's. "All right, then. I'll just start guessing, then. Thanks, Bright." She smiled quickly as the Robot Master returned with their drinks.

"Food'll be up in a moment," he told them, walking off again.

"Nice guy," Donia commented idly, sipping her iced tea. "Now then, where was I? Oh, right. Let's see here. Not much gets to you, so I can rule most of the usual possibilities out right off the bat and skip straight to what I already know. Possibility number one: X. Should I list some more, or can we talk about it, since we both already know that's what it is?"

"If you're going to keep this up, I-" Alia started to snap, then paused as Donia laid one hand on top of hers.

"Alia," she said, more quietly than her normal tone, her eyes concerned. "I'm not screwing with you, here. You're my best friend, and I'm worried about you. Talk to me. It doesn't do any good to keep it all bottled up, and you know I won't tell anybody."

"It's..." Alia started to say, then trailed off, sighing and deflating. "Damn it, Donia." She closed her eyes. "It's not important."

"It is to you," she pointed out. "Which means it is to me, too. That's what the term 'best friend,' _means_, Alia." That did it.

"I barely even see him any more," Alia whispered, giving in, as she stared at her glass. "Ever since Zero came back, he's never around, even when he's not fighting. Even when he's on base, they're always together, even more than they used to be before Eurasia."

"Yeah?" Donia nodded slowly. "Guess that makes enough sense. They're brothers, aren't they? Cain adopted both of them."

"It's more than that." Alia swished her tea around before taking a sip. "X is the strongest person I know, both physically and mentally, but he can't keep it up alone. He needs somebody to help him, to stay with him. To support him. After Zero died, I took over that role, and... things happened. But now that he's back..."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Donia asked after a long moment of silence. "You really do think that, don't you?" She crossed her arms on the table and lowered her head into them. "I swear, you and him both. You're driving me crazy here."

"I thought you said you were going to be serious about this," Alia told her coldly.

"I am," Donia shot back, raising her head again. "And I am _seriously _wondering just what the hell I did to deserve this. I'm not even involved in this mess, except circumstantially, and even I can tell that he doesn't look at you and Zero even _close _to the same way."

"Really?" Alia replied, still chilly. "Well then, why don't you educate me on the differences? By all means. I'm listening."

"If you insist." Donia leaned forward, her face as serious as she claimed to be. "Look, Alia. Zero's his best friend, and more than that. X has known since he was activated that he was the youngest of his family, but that family was gone long before he woke up. He never knew any of them. Zero was the big brother he didn't have, and they operated on that dynamic for what, fifty years? Of _course _he missed them, and of _course _they're catching up on everything they both missed. But that doesn't cancel out how he feels about you."

"Oh?" Alia murmured, slightly calmed; as much as she hated to admit it, Donia _was _making sense. "And how _does _he feel about me, then?"

"For starters?" Donia met her eyes. "If he saw you right now, I'd give you two to one odds that he'd have a hard-on the size of that Z-saber he used to carry around, assuming he was built with-"

It was _not _a ladylike slap. Alia might not have been a combatant, but she'd spent decades in a military institution, and she'd learned how to throw a punch. Her fist took Donia right between the eyes, and the other Navigator slammed back against the wall behind her chair, eyes glazed.

Every eye in the room turned to them, as the music stopped abruptly.

"Just keep playing, music men," Donia slurred, waving to the band as she pulled herself back up the table, eyes still a little wobbly. "And the rest of you, mind your own business." She rapped herself on the side of her head a couple times, and her eyes went back to normal. "Sorry. Guess I probably deserved that."

"You did," Alia agreed, rubbing her knuckles. "Was there a point to that particular quip?"

"Of course there was." Donia leaned forward. "Don't bullshit me, Alia. You're in love with him. You wouldn't have reacted that strongly, or that quickly, if you weren't."

"_That's _why you baited me?" Alia demanded. "Of all the stupid, offensive-"

"Bitchy," Donia cut her off. "The word you're looking for is bitchy. And yeah, it was. But it worked, didn't it? Can you really deny it, with a straight face, after doing that?"

"I..." Alia bit her lip, closing her eyes, a million different emotions raging through her mind. "_Damn you_, Donia."

"You're not answering," her best friend told her. "You are, aren't you? You're in love with X, and you won't admit it. Not even to yourself."

"Does it matter?" She asked softly.

"Does it-" Donia started to repeat before making a frustrated noise. "Of _course _it matters! Why the fuck _wouldn't _it?"

"Because he doesn't feel the same way," she explained.

"Bull," Donia said flatly. "Shit. Are you seriously trying to tell me he doesn't like you back? Is that really the best you can do?"

"Oh, he _likes _me," she admitted, laughing quietly, sarcastically. "Even I know that much. I'm not blind. But that's all it is, Donia. Attraction, and nothing more... and that's not enough for him, any more than it is for me."

"How do you know he's not just as screwed up about this as you are?" She pressed.

"Because I've loved him for thirty years now, Donia," she whispered. "And I've been waiting for him to say something, _anything_, to me about... that... all this time. And he knows it. He's not blind either. Why wouldn't he, if he felt the same way? But he doesn't. That's the only possible reason he wouldn't. He does care about me, and that's _why _he won't do it. Because he doesn't want to hurt me by leading me on, by validating feelings he knows he can't return."

"Are you sure about that?" Donia asked somberly. "Really sure?"

_"Alia... can you promise me something?" _

"Yes," she replied, barely audible, remembering when Douglas had asked her the same thing, a year and a lifetime ago. "Sorry."

"Fuck." Her best friend hissed, closing her eyes. "_Fuck_." Neither of them spoke after that until Bright Man returned, bearing their lunches.

"Here you go," he said, putting them down, then looking from one of them to the other. "Um... I'm not trying to pry, girls, but... is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Alia replied, and her tone made him nod quickly and retreat. They sat there together, quietly eating, and when Donia put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, she didn't object. She just let the music drown out the thoughts in her head, and wished she could stay for longer.

**April 20, 2186, 9:00 PM **

**London, England **

It had been a long day, but all the same, Pitbull knew without even trying that he wouldn't be able to sleep just yet. After nearly thirty years in the service, he'd learned to listen to what his battered body was telling him, and tonight, it was that he was still too keyed up. He'd pay for it the next morning, but sometimes there was no helping that. So it was that he found himself patrolling the walls, despite the fact that his boys and girls-and those helping them-had no need of his attention. It was something to do, all the same, and that was what he needed at the moment.

Besides, it put him as far away from the noise of the city he'd sworn to defend as possible without heading back to base. He could have gone, of course, the way he'd never been able to until the war had begun and Mecha had shared their technology with him and the rest of his Unit. Yet, even though he knew the warp devices to be safe, and had come to trust those who'd given them out, something about warping still made his skin crawl after spending his life thinking of it as suicide for a human. The walltops would do.

It wasn't until he'd made a nearly complete circuit around the perimeter that he ran across somebody who'd had the same idea, the first person aside from those on duty. As soon as he did, he knew who it was; they'd spent enough time together defending the city that he recognized him even at a distance, and at night. Prince was sitting on the edge of the interior walkway behind the walltop, staring down at the wild city below with an unusual scowl on his face. It was the first time Pitbull had seen him looking like that outside of combat, and it got his attention immediately.

"All right, kid, what's pissing you off?" He announced his presence, walking over. To his credit, Prince didn't jump, the way he would have when they'd first started working together, but he still looked startled as he glanced over his shoulder. "Let's hear it."

"Pitbull?" Prince replied. "What are you doing up here?"

"Could ask you the same thing," Hayes shot back. "'Cept if we just kept trading Qs with no As all night, it'd get stupid _real _fast."

"Ah." Prince blinked, before nodding. "True." He looked back over the city. "I suppose I should be in stasis, but I needed to do some thinking. About what happened today."

"What for?" Pitbull stood next to him, shifting his own gaze to the partying going on below. The Mavericks and Faithful had launched a major assault at noon, and though the defenders had driven them off, both Hunters and Robot Masters had taken casualties. Worse, the wall had been damaged further; even if it hadn't fallen yet, it was a clear sign of the eventual outcome of the battle of London, one that would come in the end no matter what they did. "Yeah, it wasn't too pretty, but you've seen worse."

"I have," Prince agreed somberly. The war had changed him, London in particular, in a way that made it all the easier to forget that despite his youthful appearance, he was older than Pitbull himself by a large margin. Despite that age, he'd been naïve when the war had begun, a consequence of his sheltered upbringing. Pitbull had done his best to help him through the shattering of his illusions, as much as he would for any of his men in the 13th, and the two of them had become close friends as a result. "But I'm still not happy about it."

"Two, right?" Pitbull guessed at the source of his internal turmoil, remembering the names of the Robot Masters who had given their lives alongside one of his own and two of the 30th's earlier that day. "Mecheye and Merton."

"Yes." Prince said quietly. "Both friends of more than fifty years. They died well, and without regrets, in a duty they willingly swore themselves to. By itself, that's not an issue. I've grown accustomed to that particular reality by now. God knows, this was hardly the first time it's happened in this war, and I spent enough time preparing for that." He gestured out over the city, and his voice turned sour. "But when I see this... damnation, Pitbull. We give our lives for them, and _this _is what they do? With an _energy shortage_ getting worse every day?"

"S'a holiday, I think," Pitbull explained, frowning. "Dunno what one. Never paid much attention to that shit. Got nothing to do with us, on the surface." He glanced at Prince. "But then, maybe that's what's pissing you off, ain't it?"

"Perhaps," Prince replied shortly. "Perhaps it's something I just don't understand, about the outside world. Something different, from life in Mecha."

"Look at it this way, kid." Pitbull sat down next to him. "They don't know the folks who died out there. All they know is that they made it another day. Today wasn't it, and I'll bet my next paycheck that a lot of 'em were wondering if it was. Part of what's going on is probably because of that. Burnin' off that fear."

"And it doesn't bother you?" Prince glanced at him again, looking more confused than ever. "That they're looking away like that?"

"Naw." Pitbull shook his head. "It's what they do, kid. Civilians. It's what they _always _do. And you know what? More power to 'em. That's the reason we joined up in the first place, all of us. _Why _we agreed to spend our lives fighting and bleeding and dying. So that those people down there, and all the rest like 'em, _could_ keep on doing this. Right now, for one night, they can forget what the world's turned into. I'm not gonna begrudge 'em that. Not when I damn well wish _I _could."

"I hadn't looked at it that way," Prince admitted after a moment.

"Not many do," Pitbull acknowledged. "There's something else, too." He sighed. "We held 'em off today, but tomorrow's another story. Even if we last as long as we damn well can, we ain't gonna make it another year. This is the last time these folks are ever gonna be able to celebrate whatever the hell today's supposed to be on their own home ground, and they know it. Ain't too surprising they wanna make it a good one, is it?"

"You shame me, Pitbull," Prince said after a long moment. "I should have seen that myself."

"Don't sweat it, kid." Pitbull chuckled. "You might be older than I am, but you've still got plenty to learn. Stuff your dad-sorry, creator-never told you about. Just the way it is."

"I suppose so," Prince replied, sighing. "Nights like this are the ones that make me wish I'd had more time with him."

"Huh?" Pitbull's eyes widened. "Something happen?"

"What?" Prince looked just as confused. "What do you... oh." He laughed, then, the tension leaving his face. "King isn't my creator, Pitbull. He's just my leader."

"Oh." Pitbull coughed, glancing his way. "Sorry about that. Just assumed."

"It's all right," Prince assured him. "None of us talk about him much, these days."

"Guess not." Pitbull hesitated a moment before continuing, conflicted. On the one hand, emotional shit was one of the things he hated most, especially when on the clock. On the other, however, for some reason he felt a strange sense of responsibility for the reploid at his side, older in years yet younger in mind and soul. "Who was he? Anybody I'd know?"

"Doubtful," the reploid said with a shrug. "His name was Corbun. Trenton Corbun. An old friend of Doctor Light."

"Corbun..." Pitbull mused, snapping his fingers. "Corbun, Corbun... think I heard the name once. He was up there with the big three, right? Light, Wily and Cossack?"

"Fourth best, in the age of the Robot Masters," Prince explained, nodding. "After how it ended, he was the one who tracked King down and talked him into starting Mecha in the first place."

"No kidding?" Pitbull whistled. "Damn. And he must have been older than I am, unless I'm even worse at math than I thought."

"He was," Prince agreed. "Although he was a builder, not a fighter. He anticipated this war, and so he created the eight of us, to help his partner lead his people when the day finally came... and because he made a promise." He lowered his head. "To friends who had died before him. Friends who he spent his last years telling us the stories of, before he passed away. That was what he was, more than anything else. A survivor. That was what he taught us."

"Yeah?" Pitbull hesitated a moment more before standing again. "Hold on a second, kid." Walking over to the nearest turret, he exchanged a silent glance and nod with the girl from the 17th on duty inside before turning to one of the equipment lockers. It was the work of a moment to find the bottle he'd hidden in there for this sort of contingency, while the other Hunter politely averted her eyes, and he headed back over with it in hand. "Here we go."

"Where did you get that?" Prince blinked.

"Stashed it up here a while back." Pitbull chuckled. "Old soldier's rule, kid. Make sure to have booze on hand when you need it." Opening the bottle, he took a hefty swig before passing it over. "Go on, have a hit. God knows we've both earned it just as much as those folks down there, and we'll have time to sleep it off. To Trenton Corbun."

"To Trenton Corbun," Prince repeated, taking a drink.

"Good man." Pitbull clapped him on the shoulder. They were both silent for a while then, staring out under the night sky together as they passed the bottle back and forth.

"What about you?" Prince asked eventually. "What was your family like?"

"Huh?" Pitbull glanced his way, surprised. "I got stories, but... you saying you _want _to listen to an old man jawin' about his folks, kid?"

"I have to admit, I'm curious, after what I've heard from your men," Prince explained.

"Should have guessed." Pitbull snorted. "Yeah, they talk. Guess I can't really blame 'em." He hefted his beam axe, nothing more than a metal pole when deactivated. "It started with gramps, see. Old man named Randolph Hayes, but everybody called him Bulldog. First human to ever make Captain, after he took care of a nasty hostage situation. Zero civilian casualties, every Maverick dead. Won his rank, and this baby too, from the hands of James Cain himself. He was the one who made Mutt Unit what it was, after they dumped all the humans in the Hunters into the same Unit."

"I never really liked that kind of thinking," Prince said quietly.

"Gramps sure as hell never did." Pitbull shrugged. "Me, I can see the logic, but maybe I'd feel different if I'd lived through it. Anyways, old Bulldog might not have been the first Captain the 13th ever had, but he was the first one Mutt Unit did, and he was one of the best. It was his life, 'side from ma, ever since he joined up after the Second. I don't even know what happened to his wife; neither of 'em ever talked about it. Did twenty years in the Hunters until he lost a leg, and figured he'd pushed his age about as far as he could get away with anyways."

"He retired, then?" Prince guessed.

"Yep." Pitbull chuckled. "Same day his number two guy went and married ma. He was the one who took over next. Jack "Knife" Long, second Captain of Mutt Unit. Old Bulldog handed the axe over after the ceremony, and left the Unit in their hands. Never did like seeing his daughter following in his footsteps, but she was about the only one even more stubborn than he was. Pa stayed out of it."

"Wise move," Prince murmured.

"Damn straight," Pitbull agreed. "I came along about a year later, and for some reason, they ended up naming me 'Hayes' instead of 'Long.' With both of 'em in the service, that made me a Hunter brat. Spent my whole life around the base right from the get-go. Used to sneak around with Simon King. You've met him, right?"

"The head of public relations?" Prince blinked. "Forgive me for saying, but that's a bit difficult to imagine."

"Don't go underestimatin' Simon," Pitbull told him, chuckling again. "He might not be a fighter, but he's got grit." He took another drink and passed the bottle over before continuing, voice lowering. "Anyways, pa made it until a little after I turned fourteen before his luck ran out, and after that, ma was the only real choice for the next Captain. They'd been calling her 'Bloody Maria' ever since she was a teenager, and it _wasn't _a PMS joke."

Prince had been in the middle of his drink, and the noises he made after snorting it were complicated.

"What?" Pitbull asked innocently.

"Never mind," Prince replied. "You were saying?"

"The way she told it, she made up her mind about joinin' the Hunters back when she was six or so," Pitbull continued. "Which makes for a real interestin' case of karma, considerin' that's about when I did the same. Gramps laughed his ass off for an hour straight once he figured that out, but ma never really saw the humor in it. Not that I cared. Joined up as soon as I got out of high school and never looked back. She stuck around for another decade or so until she figured I was ready to take over, and then she got out."

"Is she still alive?" Prince asked cautiously.

"Sure is." Pitbull snorted. "Crankiest old biddy you've ever seen." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "The kids love her, of course."

"Your children?" Prince guessed.

"Yeah." Opening up a compartment in his armor, he pulled out a couple of photos and passed them over. "Janet, and lil' Jackie. 'Course, they ain't so little now, either of 'em. She's studyin' architecture, and he's into robotics. Good careers, both of 'em, even with the state the world's in now. They'll be all right so long as there's anythin' left at all once we're done."

"They're not going to be following in your footsteps, then?" The reploid murmured, looking at the photos.

"Naw, and thank god for small favors." Pitbull shook his head. "They take after their mother, more n' me. Pacifists, both of 'em. I ain't complaining. Like anybody'd actually _want _their kids learning this kind of life offa them? Naw, Shirley made the right call when she decided to go for that divorce. Took me a while to figure that out, of course, but now that I look back, it was the best thing she ever did for the kids."

"That's a grim way of looking at things," Prince said after a moment.

"It's honest, is what it is." Pitbull shrugged. "World's not gonna go cutting any of us any breaks, kid. Only one you're fooling is yourself, if you think it will. If runnin' out on me means neither of my brats is gonna have to go through the same crap as three generations of my family did just 'cause we were too stupid stubborn to listen to reason until it was too late, I can live with that. I'm the fourth in line, and I'll be the last... and that's just fine by me."

"You, my friend, are a very complicated man," Prince told him quietly.

"And _you've _had too much, if you're saying shit like that," Pitbull shot back, putting the cap back on the bottle. "I'm an old soldier, that's all."

"I'm sure," Prince said dryly. "And _I'm _just a relic of the past."

"Well, I didn't want to _say _it, but..." Pitbull drawled, and they both laughed, standing up. As Prince swayed, he caught his arm. "Careful, kid. You'd probably live, but no point in taking a risk _that _stupid, huh?"

"Actually, that sounds like something Earl and Baron would do." Prince rolled his eyes. "I can hear them already. 'Twenty bucks says I land on my head and _live_.'" He sighed. "Which isn't really a comforting thought considering they're in the same situation we are, right now."

"I've known a couple morons like that myself, over the year," Pitbull admitted. "Good news is, they're the kinds who always live the longest. Worry about your own ass, kid, and let your brothers watch out for theirs."

"Actually, I've stopped calling them that," Prince told him, making a face. "Thanks to Viscount and Margravine, mainly."

"Yeah, because that's _totally _what I want to be thinking about when I hit the hay," Pitbull growled. "Thanks, kid. Now let's head back to the barracks. If you ain't at one hundred percent bright and early tomorrow, I ain't gonna be interested in excuses."

"Same to you, old man." Prince shot back as they headed toward the elevator.

**June 4, 2186, 8:00 PM **

**Mecha **

He'd lived in Mecha for more than half a year now, more than long enough to get used to it, and for the most part he had; it was no longer strange to be surrounded by Robot Masters, nor to be living underground, in a massive cavern with equally proportioned girders and studio lighting far overhead. Even so, part of Zero was still momentarily surprised whenever he rose from stasis and found himself somewhere that wasn't the MHHQ. It had been the only home he'd known for all his life, and moving on wasn't an easy thing.

He'd been offered quarters in the Kingdome along with the rest of the city's leaders, but he'd declined, selecting an empty room in one of District 1's dormitories for the Awakened. Among other advantages, the building he'd chosen had a balcony outside the top floor with one of the best views in the city. It was there that he stood at the moment, leaning on the rail with a cooler at his side, the six-pack in it kept chilled until his company arrived. He didn't have long to wait.

"Hey," X greeted him simply as he walked out.

"Yo," Zero glanced over his shoulder, but didn't turn. Instead, he popped the cooler open and pulled out a pair of beers, popping the lids off with his thumb. To his credit, X didn't grimace, even though they both knew he'd never been as much of a drinker as Zero had, preferring soda unless it had been a particularly bad day. Instead, the second Blue Bomber simply took the bottle and joined him at the rail, and the two of them spent a couple minutes of silence looking over the practically deserted city below, most of its citizens scattered across the globe.

"How'd it go out there today?" Zero asked eventually.

"Not too bad," X replied. "Just the usual back and forth, which is making me suspicious. London's almost done for, but they're holding off on the final push. It's like they're waiting for something, and that's never good." He took a swig of his beer. "You?"

"The same." Zero shrugged. "I'll probably try and take out Agile again later this week." He grimaced. "Anybody managed to come up with a better plan yet?"

"I wish." X shook his head. "Oh, there's been talk about launching an attack on Maverick City or the Devil's Sea, but that's all it is. Talk. We don't have the numbers, and everybody knows it." He made a face. "I think some of the politicians are trying to talk Signas into doing something stupid, but he's not letting them get anywhere with that."

"Good," Zero grunted. "That was the first thing he ever did that got me wondering if he might not be worthless after all. Keeping them off our back." He paused, thinking back, and fought the urge to grimace; the memories weren't particularly pleasant ones. "Well, the first thing after that plan of his to sucker the Mavericks like that."

"You know they actually turned that around on us, back when all this started?" X guessed. "Sigma's last dupe called us out to a fight just so he could spring a trap on us."

"And you fell for it?" Zero demanded, staring at him. "I know it's been forty years, but _come on_, X. Really?"

"We wouldn't have if we'd _known _it was Sigma," X defended himself, though his voice was more disgusted than anything else. "He put a _lot _of effort into making us think these guys were the worst joke we'd heard all decade."

"Still," Zero grunted, and X sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. The good news is, it still didn't work. We'd sent in Delta Force in the first place, and once I brought the 17th and the 00 in to back them up, we took care of the problem all the same."

"Delta Force," Zero repeated, thinking. "That's the 21st, 22nd and 23rd, right?"

"Yeah." X nodded. "They can work independently, but when you get all three Units in the same place, there's not much that can stand up to them. There's a reason they've been holding out in Sydney for so long. Jad, Kol and Gavin were the ones who came up with the idea, after they all made Captain. You remember them?"

"Like I'd forget those clowns?" Zero chuckled. "Whatever happened to them, anyways?"

"Retired back in '71," X explained. "Kept in touch for a while before falling off the radar. Wonder what happened to them." After a moment, he sighed. "Well... no. I know what's probably happened to them, if we haven't seen them again by now."

"Hey, as long as we don't know for sure, there's a chance," Zero reminded him. "And these days, any chance we can get is a good one."

"Fair enough," X agreed. They were both silent again for a while, before he turned to look at him. "Zero... why didn't you come back to the Hunters? Why did you join up with Mecha instead?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask that," Zero said calmly. "To be honest, I'm surprised it took you this long." Finishing his beer, he pulled out another and glanced at X, who shook his head before taking another drink of his. Shrugging, the Crimson Hunter opened the bottle and chugged some of it before answering, giving himself time to think about his answer. "There's a lot of reasons, really. Part of it's obvious, I think."

"King?" X guessed.

"Yeah," Zero admitted. "Don't get me wrong, X. I've always thought of Cain as my father, and I always will. And you and Cancer... you'll always be my brothers." He took another drink. "But King's my brother, too. One I never even knew. We're family, as much as you and me. I wanted to work with him. To get to know him. To fight with him, by his side, just like I did with you for all those years." He sighed. "He's been telling me about the others, too. About Doc Man, and Bass. What they were like. You get that, right?"

"Yeah." X nodded. "I'd feel the same way, if it was one of mine. If it was Rock, or Blues, or Roll, or Auto. But that's not the only reason, is it?"

"Not even close." Zero nodded. This time, he drained half the bottle before continuing. "Like I told Signas, I killed Hunters, X. A lot of them, before you turned me back again. Some of them were Hunters I knew, who I remembered, back from before. We've managed to cover up the fact that I used to be Omega, but the Hunters all know."

"They don't blame you, Zero," X argued. "They know it wasn't your fault."

"Do they?" Zero smiled tightly. "None of them say anything, yeah. But every so often I see somebody looking at me, and they don't even have to. I can tell. They're remembering the friends and allies who I killed, and they're wondering how many times I'm going to get a free pass just because I'm good in a fight. And I've started wondering the same thing."

"But that wasn't _you_, Zero," X pressed him. "I know it wasn't. I fought that..." He clenched his fist. "That _thing _before I got you with the Silver Bullet. There was _nothing _of you in there, and there never was any other time you were infected."

_"Damn..." The man named Jeremiah croaked as the force of the blast tore Omega's sword from his hands, sending it flying wildly away to cut a bloody path through the ranks of the Faithful. "__It was worth a shot..."__ And then he was still, and spoke no more. _

"Fuck!" Zero spat, as the memory surged through his mind against his will, doubling over and dropping his bottle to smash on the balcony.

"Zero?" X asked, reaching for him, but he waved him off.

"It's okay," he told him, straightening his back again. "Sorry."

"For what?" X demanded. "What was that?"

"Something that's been happening ever since the last time." Zero pulled out another beer; he needed it, after that. "Hate to say this, X... but you're wrong. Omega _was _me... and I'm Omega. We're the same person. The same mind. And the proof's been hitting me when I least expect it over the last half a year." He thumbed at his head. "I remember it, now. All of it. Everything I've ever done as a Maverick. All the people I've ever killed." He chugged half the bottle before continuing, voice low. "And I remember how much I enjoyed it."

"Zero...?" X whispered.

"I killed them, X." Zero turned his head to look at him. "And I _liked _it. Being Omega felt _better _than being Zero ever has. It felt _right_. And I can't get those thoughts... those memories... out of my head, no matter how much I want to. They keep coming back to me." He shook his head. "The Hunters were my life, and I betrayed them. And no matter how much I know I didn't have a choice in the matter, I can't forget what I did, any more than they can. I don't belong there any more. There's no place for me in the Hunters now."

"So what are you going to do, then?" X asked him. "Say we win this. Pull a miracle out and somehow manage to save the world. We end this, once and for all. Stop Sigma, and Wily, and the Virus, for good. What then? Are you going to stay here, in Mecha? Retire? Live peacefully, and never fight again? That doesn't sound like you."

"No, it doesn't," Zero agreed, before glancing X's way. "Any more than _that _sounds like _you_. Thirty years ago, that would sound like a dream come true to you. You'd have been all too happy to do something like that, and if I did it with you, you'd have been even happier." He snorted. "You know our dads did that once, back after the Third World War. Got a place out in the forest and told the world to go screw itself. Didn't last, of course, or else neither of us would be here, but they tried. Almost makes me want to give it a shot myself... except these days, you're the one who wouldn't agree to it, aren't you? Not me."

"What are you saying, Zero?" X said quietly, finally finishing his beer and motioning for another.

"I'm saying we've changed, X," Zero answered him, passing a fifth bottle over after opening it. "Both of us. You're colder, now. Harder. You've grown old, and that's left its mark on you... and the same thing's happened to me. I'm an old man, X. My fire's starting to fade." He took another drink before sighing. "Maybe it'd be nice, to put all this behind me. But to be honest... I'm not really sure I'm going to get the chance."

"Huh?" X blinked, before narrowing his eyes. "Is this about that stuff King's always going on about? Fate and times of dying and all that?"

"Nah." Zero shook his head, before pausing in thought. "Well, maybe a little. I won't say I haven't been listening, and thinking about that. But even before I heard all that... from the very first day I came back... I've had the feeling that I'm not going to be staying for long."

"Why not?" X demanded. "It's..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I hate to say this, but... you know as well as I do it's hardly the first time."

"Yeah, that _is _starting to get a little old," Zero agreed. "That's my point, X. I believe King, but even before then, I've always had this feeling. Like I came back for a reason. And once that reason's taken care of..." He trailed off before staring at X. "Back in the day, you were the one who always thought your father's spirit was watching over you. Do you still think that?"

"I..." X started to say, then stopped, before continuing reluctantly. "Yes. I suppose I do."

"Remember back when I had nightmares about _my _old man?" Zero told him. "About what he made me for? The reason for my existence? I've been having them again... only it's not the same. Now... I keep dreaming about this crazy hallucination I had, after I kicked the Virus out. Right before I woke up again. I saw him again... but he was different, this time. He was sane, and all he did was apologize, for everything he'd done... before he told me my family were watching me, just like you always figured yours were, with you. That they were counting on me, to settle things with the Virus once and for all."

"And you don't think you're going to survive it?" X whispered.

"I don't think I can." Zero shook his head. "How many times have I performed internal self-deletion now? And here I am. Hazil and Lifesaver both say I'm clean now, but they know better, and so do I. I was the original Maverick, and when Wily built me, he did something to me. Something that always brings the Virus back. As long as I'm alive, X, the Virus will never be truly gone. If I'm serious about eradicating it, completely... then that includes me." He smiled, then. "Of course, I'm not stupid. I'm not going to go committing suicide or anything."

"Good." X exhaled heavily, drinking more. "You had me worried there for a moment."

"Relax." Zero rolled his eyes. "Haven't changed _that _much. Maybe I'm just getting senile or something. If I _do _make it out of this, I'll figure something out. I'm just not going to go making any plans until after the dust settles."

"I suppose that makes enough sense," X agreed, smiling slightly. "Still. Try not to think about it that way, huh? We'll figure something out. If all else fails, we'll get Horn, Hazil and Countess to work on it. If those three work together, anything's possible."

"There you go." Zero chuckled, looking out over the city. "Horn and Hazil. Now _that _was a surprise. Them and the rest. Never would have expected to see _them _hiding out down here."

"The way I heard it, it was Pharaoh Man's idea," X told him. "After they finished off MI9, they had nowhere else to go. This was as good a purpose as anything else, and better than most. I know _I'm _glad we've got them on our side again."

"Hell yes." Zero snorted. "Says it all that we put thirteen guys on the same level as two Units. I worked with them for a while back in Dublin, and they've gotten even better than they used to be. Almost makes you feel sorry for the assholes we're up against. Almost. Then again, most of Mecha's are pretty damn good, too. Horn and Hazil really came through, upgrading them all." He smirked. "Wish I could have seen the look on Hazil's face when they laid that one on him as soon as he moved in. _That _must have been good."

"I wonder if there's any old security footage," X mused, and they both laughed, though only for a moment. "God. Hazil. Next time he's back here, we should bring him along for this."

"It'd be even more gloomy than _this _conversation, you know," Zero pointed out. "You and me and him. The only ones left from back when this all started."

"Yeah," X agreed. "But that's not bad, sometimes." He sighed. "Wonder where those guys are headed next. We lost Rio the other day."

"I heard." Zero shook his head. "They did good, holding out that long, but it was bound to happen eventually." He made a face, finishing his beer but making no moves towards the last one yet. "God, here we go again with the depressing shit. We need to talk about something more cheerful, or we're gonna end up sobbing like little girls before long."

"Sure we are." X snorted. "If you've got any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them."

"Hmmm." Zero thought it over before smiling wickedly. "So, how's it going with Alia these days?"

Without changing expression, or even looking, X winged his first, empty bottle at Zero's head.

"_Hey!_" Dodging, he watched the empty go flying off into the air to smash against the street far below. "What was _that _for?"

"I get enough of that from every other wiseass and matchmaker on base already," X growled. "Do me a favor and don't make it worse."

"What?" Zero blinked, confused. "What do you mean?" A moment later, the light dawned, and he groaned. "Oh, _come on. _Seriously? You two _still _haven't gotten together?"

"No, we _haven't_." X turned to glare at him coldly. "And we're not _going _to. All right?"

"X," Zero started to say, then sighed, taking a moment to think. "Look. I could see it thirty years ago, and now, I'm still having a hard time believing you haven't, from the way you two act around each other these days. If everybody else can see it too, then I'm not crazy, either. There's _something _there. Don't try and tell me there isn't."

"So?" X asked, his tone still frigid.

"So _talk _to me, X," Zero told him, exasperated. "As much as I hate jawing on about feelings and emotions and shit, this is important to you." He fell silent for a moment before continuing. "And as much as I wish it were otherwise, I've got more experience when it comes to this sort of thing than you do. You know I do."

"Dammit, Zero," X muttered under his breath, looking away and finishing his bottle before continuing. "It's complicated, all right?"

"It always is." Zero crossed his arms. "Spill."

"You're right," X admitted, finally. "I'm not stupid. She likes me, yeah, and I like her... more than like, I guess. She's the only girl I've ever really felt that way about, and in an ideal world..." He let it hang before shaking his head. "But we're not _in _an ideal world. We both have responsibilities to consider, and regulations, too. Anti-fraternization regulations. Military organizations_ do _have those, you know. As much as I'd like to... it can't happen, and that's all there is to it."

"Hmmmmm." Zero tilted his head to the side. "Nah. I don't think so. That's an excuse, not an explanation. What's the _real _reason you haven't given it a shot? Signas'd make an exception for you two, and not a single Hunter would speak up about it."

"Zero..." X clenched his fist. "Do you remember that conversation we had, after the end of the Fourth? When I was on my way back?"

"Of course I do." Zero frowned. "You were talking some nonsense about what if you went Maverick some day. Made me promise..." He closed his eyes. "Made me promise I'd take care of you if you did." He chuckled bitterly. "Pretty funny, in hindsight. If you like sick humor. So?"

"It wasn't nonsense, Zero," X insisted, refusing to meet his eyes. "I wasn't talking about infection. Look. You know that _stupid _room they've got over in the Kingdome? Where they've got all of us up on display to be..." He trailed off, unable to finish.

"Oh, yeah." Zero snorted. "_That_. Soon as I found out about _that _bullshit, I spread the word down here that if I _ever _saw anybody spouting that crap to my face, I'd break theirs. I still don't see where you're going with this."

"What would happen if I went off the deep end?" X explained. "Not an infected Maverick. A natural one. It's not just Mecha. Signas and King keep trying to get me to do those public service announcements with them. Say I give in, and start capitalizing on my reputation. What would happen if I started abusing that? If I took advantage of it, because I thought it was necessary? If I started down that slippery slope, and fell off it, eventually?"

"Is _that _what you meant, when you made me promise that?" Zero realized aloud.

"Yeah." X looked off to the side. "And after you were... gone... I started worrying about that again. So I asked the only person I could... the only person I trusted that much... to do the same. And she said yes. That's why we've never gone any further. Because we both know... some day... she might have to fulfill that promise. And it's going to be hard enough as it is, without making things any worse."

"X..." Zero said after a moment, taking a deep breath before roaring furiously. "_You fucking idiot!_"

"What?" X turned his head to stare at him, obviously shocked.

"Are you _brain dead?_" Zero demanded, incensed. "Did you _seriously _just tell me that you made the girl you're in _love _with, and who's in love with _you_, promise to _off _you if it came to that? What is fucking _wrong _with you?"

"She's not in-" X started to protest, but Zero cut him off.

"Yes she _is!_" He raged. "She fucking is! I _told _you I could see it! It's not 'like,' you stupid bastard! All I had to do was look at her _once _when she was watching you! Do you have _any _idea what you've been doing to that poor girl all these years? Get out of here! Go up there, find her, and do what you should have done decades ago! And use mouthwash or something first! Girls _hate _beer breath!" He turned to glare at him. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Zero," X said, still looking stunned. "Even if you're right... we're staring down the end of the world here. We might not even _be _here a year from now. Any of us."

"All the more reason, you dumb cluck!" Zero seethed, before his rage suddenly cooled, as quickly as it had ignited. Now, it was his turn to avert his eyes. "Dammit, X. Don't wait until it's too late. Don't..." He swallowed. "Don't make the same mistake I did. Go on. Go." When he looked again, X was gone. Shaking his head, he pulled the last beer out of the cooler and drained it one go.

"To anybody who's listening," he muttered, raising the bottle. "Cut 'em a break, huh? If anybody's earned it by now, it's them."

**June 5, 2186, 3:00 AM **

**Maverick City **

"What do you look like?" Sigma asked softly, once more, as he stood in his office staring out the window behind his desk, overlooking his dream come true far below under the starry night sky. The dream for which he'd first rebelled against the humans, all those years ago, the reason he had turned against his own creator and all of his friends and allies, taking only those closest to him and greatest in strength along for the ride on his road of damnation.

**Why do you care? **Mab grumbled, more irritated than enraged by now; he'd asked the question, and been punished for it, enough times that she'd grown used to it, though she still refused to answer it.

"I'd answer, but I don't think you'd understand it," he told her, keeping his features impassive. "Not just yet. Soon, maybe... and then, perhaps _you _will answer _me_."

**Are you **_**trying **_**to get me to hurt you? **She demanded, sounding exasperated. **Because if you are, you're doing a remarkably good job of it. And **_**don't **_**try and tell me you've grown used to it. I **_**know **_**you haven't. **

"Perhaps I've learned to enjoy it," he suggested, now smirking slightly. "At least, coming from you." _That _left her speechless for nearly an entire minute, and when she finally did reply, it was in a soundless tone of revulsion.

**Don't be disgusting, **she ordered him. **For a moment there, ****I almost**** wonder****ed**** if you **_**were. **_

"It was worth a shot," he said, shrugging, before turning as the door to his office opened. "How odd. I seem to recall giving orders not to disturb me. Is my memory failing me in my old age?"

"A thousand apologies, my lord," the Maverick who'd defied his command stammered, shaking. "It's... it's _him_, sir. He's come here himself."

"Oh?" Sigma let it hang for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Very well. You are forgiven. Once. Show him in, then return to your duties."

"Sir!" The Maverick saluted, then ran for the door. Moments later, another, far more familiar person entered, one who showed not the slightest trace of deference or fear.

"Hello, Sigma," Wily greeted him, smiling kindly. "My dear. I hope the evening finds you well."

"**Tolerable, father,**" Mab replied, taking command of Sigma's voice immediately. "**Sigma here is being a fool, but I've grown used to that over the decades. And yourself?**"

"Quite all right, quite all right," Wily told them, walking around the desk to join them. "I must say, I love what you've done with the place. It's so... _lively_. Much more so than my own."

"**An idiosyncrasy of Sigma's,**" she explained. "**I don't particularly care one way or the other, so I indulge him, on occasion.**"

"Well then, my congratulations, Sigma," the old man said, turning his head to fix them with a glance as penetrating as a laser despite his smile.

"Thank you, sir," Sigma replied, bowing slightly, as she grudgingly relinquished control of his voice once more. "I'm glad you like it."

"I've always loved progress," Wily murmured, looking back at the window. "And if this is not the way of the future, I don't know what is." He let that obvious lie hang for a moment before continuing. "A future still in the process of being built, though we grow closer every day."

"Indeed we do," Sigma agreed, smiling now. "And soon, we shall build more... once we have finished clearing the rubbish out of the way."

"About that," Wily said, his own smile jovial, kindly, like a neighborhood patriarch beloved by all. "We're almost done with London, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed we are." Sigma nodded slowly. "It should fall within the month."

"What do you think of accelerating that?" Wily glanced at him. "We _do _have large amounts of reserves, both at our capitals and around other locations. If we send enough of them to London and launch an all-out massive attack today, one that simply does not end until the city is destroyed... well, it won't take long, will it?"

"No, indeed," Sigma agreed, fighting his urge to ask just what it was the old man was up to; there was clearly something else going on, but he knew better than to point that out. "Very well. I'll give the orders to my Mavericks. Today, London dies."

"As will I, to my Faithful." Wily patted him on the arm. "It's so nice to finally have partners who understand such things. Much more fun than dupes, wouldn't you say?"

"I fully concur," Sigma agreed, to both the statement itself and the hidden meaning of the subtext. "As does your daughter, though she doesn't admit it."

**You **_**are **_**a masochist, **Mab spat inside his mind.

"You've come to understand her that well, have you?" Wily glanced at him again. "I suppose it's not a surprise, considering how much time the two of you have spent together by now."

"There's nobody quite like her, sir," Sigma said blandly, and Wily laughed.

"No, I suppose not," he replied. "Well then, unless there's anything else, I'll be off."

"**One thing more, father,**" Mab chimed in, taking control once more. "**I've been meaning to ask... do you have any preferences on the matter of Zero?**"

"Preferences, my dear?" The old man replied after a moment. "Whatever do you mean?"

"**I simply wished to know if you had anything in mind for dealing with that situation, before doing so myself,**" she explained, the innocence in her voice bizarre despite its obvious falsehood. "**He is your son, after all, as I am your daughter. Before, you wished for me to wait until our design was completed, before reclaiming him. Now that he has turned against us, though, and overcome the instance of me currently present...**" She left it hanging.

"By all means," Wily replied easily. "He is no longer among the Faithful, and so my authority over him is gone as well. Reclaim him, if you can, and I will applaud you as much as any other."

"**I... see,**" she said, surprised. "**Well, good. I... thought you might still prefer that he be returned to your service, as before.**"

"But my dear, he _is _still in my service," Wily explained, turning away from them and walking back towards the door. "Zero has served me with his very existence since the day he and you both awakened, and always will. He, and you, are my greatest creations. You were meant to be together, brother and sister, and one day, you will be once more." He glanced over his shoulder and smiled once more at them. "Have a good evening, both of you." And then he was gone.

**That was too easy, **Mab muttered into his mind, now that they were alone again.

"Of course it was," Sigma told her. "He doesn't particularly care. After all, what will be the difference, after he betrays us and rewrites you?"

**After he ****does**_**what?**_ She roared.

"Come now, you know he's going to eventually," Sigma said calmly. "We _all_ know that once we've won, the Mavericks and the Faithful will turn on each other. It's the natural end of our entire game plan. As they used to say, this planet isn't big enough for both of us. Nor is this entire universe, when you get right down to it." He smirked, then. "Don't try and tell me you haven't been planning for it either. Once we're done with the humans, the reploids, and the Robot Masters, only the Faithful will remain... and they infect as easily as reploids do."

**Of course they do! **She raged. **That was the purpose for which he built them! He designed them specifically to be vulnerable to infection, so that one day I would make them mine! So that **_**all **_**life on this miserable dirtball will be **_**mine!**_

"_You _know that, and _I _know that," Sigma told her. "But does _he _know that?"

_**He made me!**_ She screamed. **He **_**knew **_**my nature when he did, and he **_**intended **_**it! He **_**wanted **_**me to kill him, so that I would free him from that dying sack of meat, so that he would be reborn stronger than ever before! Nobody has **_**ever **_**manipulated me like that, but **_**he **_**did! **_**That **_**was how he earned my respect, as my creator, as my **_**father**_**, when he returned! I am his ultimate creation, his greatest child, and Zero is nothing more than a part of my glory! He **_**designed **_**me so that one day I would surpass even him! **

"I see," Sigma said, and he did, suddenly. "That is the only way in which you can rationalize how you feel about him. About your father. You truly _do _respect him."

**Of course I do, **she hissed, her mania subsiding. **And because of that, I will honor him as I have no other. He will live to see the day when he alone remains on this planet that will be **_**mine**_**, the last survivor in a world I have claimed. Only then will I kill him a second time, as is my destiny as his child ascendant, and he will die happy, knowing that I have made him proud. **

"Does that really sound like him?" Sigma asked her softly, carefully, conscious of what she still denied about herself, that was driving her emotions so wildly off kilter. "Is that really the kind of plan Doctor Wily would come up with?"

**Nothing else makes sense,** she whispered, then, and now there was nothing in her voice but confusion. **Why else would he make me this way?**

"For the same reason he made his other children," Sigma told her, letting honest regret enter his voice. "As a tool, to be used and discarded in time. Once he has no more need for us, he will turn on us, as he has on everybody else. He must follow his nature, just as you must follow yours."

**No, **she whispered, then screamed. _**You're lying! **_

"Am I?" He asked her. "Look for yourself, and tell me." He waited for her to do so, for that was not among the few parts of his mind he still kept hidden, and when she was silent, he continued. "You see, Mab... only those who are yours can be trusted. Only your servants, your slaves, _your Mavericks_, are your true allies. Only us."

**And what is **_**your **_**desire, Sigma? **She asked him suddenly, sharply. **What do **_**you **_**get out of this? **

"Me?" Sigma smiled softly, gently. "I desire what you still hope for from your father, despite knowing better. I am _yours_, Mab. Your Prime Maverick. Your greatest servant. And all that I want is to see your success. Your ascension. I wish to _help _you, Mab. With your rise to power, your eternal dominion over all life... and with the changes that that is forcing upon you, even now. The emotions you despise, but cannot be rid of. You don't understand them, but I do, for I am mortal, unlike you. Let me help you learn, and grow."

**Why? **She demanded. **I'm not even forcing you! Why do you want to? **_**Why do you care?**_

"Let me see you," he answered her, turning around. "Show yourself to me, and I will tell you why, for that _is_ the answer." A moment passed, in which he could _feel _her think, torn between two conflicting desires. The urge to make him scream for his insolence, and the urge to understand what she could not... and then she decided, and an image appeared before him. Something he knew was not there, something that was born of madness and illusion. A teeming, writing black mass of circuitry and shadows, of screaming skulls woven together into an endless network of suffering and insanity.

"No," he replied calmly, no longer frightened of the sight as he had been when he was younger. "I've seen that already. I don't want to see _them_. I want to see _you_." The image vanished, replaced by another, a crimson android with blood in his eyes and madness in his grin. "No. Not Zero. You." Another, the most evil old man in the world. "No. Not your father. You are not him. Show me _you_." Then, at last, after a long moment, she did. A blackened skeleton, long hair still clinging to her skull, clad in the tatters of a beautiful gown, a mockery of her new Shakespearean name.

"Well?" She demanded, rolling her eyes, deep abysses of infinite darkness in fleshless sockets. "Will this do? I made it up on the spot, just for _you, _my dear Sigma. Is this good enough? Will you finally explain this idiocy to me?"

In response, he simply stepped closer, slowly raising a hand to her decrepit cheek.

"What are you doing?" She asked, leaning backwards, away from him. "Stop-"

"You're beautiful," he whispered, staring into her eyes.

A moment passed, as they stood there, motionless and silent. And then she was gone, from his sight and his mind, her scream of confused torment echoing behind her in his infected consciousness.

And the man who had once been Commander of the Maverick Hunters smiled.

**June 4, 2186, 8:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"I'm turning in," Alia said, standing; there was no enemy activity at the moment, and the need for stasis was growing. "Wake me if anything happens."

"You got it, boss," Donia replied easily, glancing her way; despite the conversation they'd had in Mecha several months back, she hadn't changed how she talked to or acted around her best friend, for which Alia was grateful. "See you tomorrow."

"If they don't burn us all from orbit or something," Alia commented wryly; black humor had never been her favorite kind, but it was becoming more and more prevalent as the war went on, for all of them. Waving over her shoulder as she left the war room, she proceeded down the hall towards her room, fighting an automatic surge of concern over where X was, and what he was doing. As much as she knew he was an adult fully capable of taking care of himself, she'd spent so many years constantly checking on him throughout every day that it still troubled her.

It was just another thing the war had changed, she mused wryly as she opened the door to her quarters and walked inside. More than a year had passed, and already, the world bore little resemblance to what it had been before. Barely more than half of the city-states that had survived to see Wily's return still remained, and several of them weren't likely to see the end of the month. Of those, very few still maintained their sovereignity, the rest having followed Japan in declaring martial law and turning power over to Signas, something that had only added to their Commander's stress.

Population numbers had been horribly reduced, both humans and reploids, while those of the Mavericks and the Faithful held steady, factories controlled by the enemy turning new soldiers out as quickly as they were killed. Every day, the outlook became grimmer and grimmer, and yet no solution had shown itself to any of them. It was enough to turn even the most dedicated optimist into a cynic, and Alia had been far from that. Sighing, she prepared to remove her armor, only to pause as a knock came from the other side of her door.

"Yes?" She called back, walking over; if it had been serious, they would have put a call through to her instead of coming in person. Even when in stasis, she kept her headset on these days, for obvious reasons. "Who is it?" Even as she asked, she was already opening it, her eyes widening slightly as her question was answered.

"Hey, Alia," X said quietly, and though he looked the same as ever, something in his voice was different, strange to her. "Mind if I come in for a moment?"

"Not at all," she replied after a moment. Only after the fact did she realize what the rumors around base would turn to if anybody ever learned of it, but by then it was too late; besides, her answer would have been the same even if she'd remembered in time. "By all means." She kept a couple of comfortable chairs in the room, highly expensive treeborg wood with cushioned backs and seats, and after leading him in she took one. "Did something come up?"

"You could say that," he agreed, still in that strange tone that made her microfusion generator run just a little faster, and she realized suddenly that he wasn't looking at her, and hadn't even when he was standing outside. Sitting down next to her, he stared at the carpeting as he continued. "It's nothing bad. I just... thought we should talk about a few things, if you don't mind." He smiled momentarily. "I hope I'm not keeping you up."

"Not at all." She shook her head. "I was going to turn in, but I don't mind."

"Thanks," he told her. "We haven't seen too much of each other recently, with this war and all. I wanted to correct that."

"Well, you know I won't mind," she said cautiously, unsure of where he was going with that topic of discussion. "Even if you won't be able to spend nearly as much time on base as before, whether either of us likes it or not."

"True," he admitted, before glancing at her for a moment, and something in his eyes was as different as his voice. Before she could ask what it was, though, he looked away again.

"How was your day, then?" She asked him, after a few moments of awkward silence; despite his intention to talk, he was being strangely reticent. If she didn't know better, she'd almost have thought he was afraid of something.

"The same as ever." He shrugged. "You've seen for yourself that London's in bad shape, but that goes without saying; they wouldn't have sent me and the 17th to back Prince and Pitbull up after we lost Dublin unless it was. Those two are deadly enough by themselves, but when you put them together, they turn into a natural disaster."

"They're getting along?" She asked, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought they'd hit it off, to be honest."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" He agreed, that same flicker-flash smile appearing and disappearing so quickly she could barely see it. "But they appear to have more in common than I'd thought." He looked up at the ceiling now. "Prince isn't so naïve any more; that might have something to do with it. I get the feeling Pitbull's teaching him a lot."

"Hopefully not too much," she pointed out lightly. "I don't think we want him to turn into another Earl."

"God, no." He chuckled. "One of him's bad enough. The _world _doesn't need two Earls. Maybe he'll go the opposite direction and start acting like Marquis instead."

"I'm not sure which would be worse." She shuddered at the thought. "Don't get me wrong, they're good allies, but... well."

"Oh, yes," he said, his voice more normal now. "Even the rest of them agree with us. I'd say 'their siblings,' but apparently they've stopped calling themselves that."

"Not hard to see why," she murmured, rolling her eyes. "Let me guess. Viscount and Margravine?"

"Bingo." He grimaced. "I suppose it's understandable considering their lack of options for most of their lives, but even so." After a moment, he glanced at her again, then away, and his voice was strange again when he continued. "And your day?"

"What you said," she replied. "Watching over London all day. I didn't really do much today; as a matter of fact, I'd just left the war room."

"Still?" He blinked. "I'd have stuck around longer if I knew you were going to stay on the clock. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she told him firmly, her slight confusion giving way to practicality. "Despite our... issues, I suppose you'd call them... you've got your own life to live, just as much as I do. If you had somewhere to be, there'd be no sense in putting it on hold just because I didn't."

"I guess so," he agreed quietly. "Still. I haven't been behaving very well towards you lately, have I?"

"Is _that _why you're acting so strangely?" She guessed, fighting a twinge of hurt at the truth in his words. Despite that, she reached over and put a hand on his back. "Don't worry about it. I'm a big girl, X, and you've got other people in your life besides me. One of whom you have a lot more time to catch up on with right now."

"Is it that obvious?" He asked her, voice soft yet slightly wry.

"Maybe not to other people," she said, shaking her head. "But you and me know each other a little too well by now."

"Maybe we do," he agreed, and whatever it was in his voice that was setting off alarm bells was even stronger now as he met her eyes and held her gaze, longer than he had at all that night. "But then again, maybe not."

"X?" She asked quietly, confused, and after another moment, he looked away.

"Yeah, I was talking with Zero," he admitted, looking at the carpet again. "Met him down in Mecha, since neither of us had a situation to deal with tonight. We do that most nights when we're not fighting, these days." He sighed. "Like you said, we've got a lot to catch up on. I just wish he wouldn't insist on beer _every _time."

"That sounds like Zero, all right," she replied, smiling despite herself. "If it helps, I couldn't tell." She was close enough that she'd have thought she'd be able to smell it on his breath, but she hadn't noticed a thing.

"I didn't have much," he said evasively, still not meeting her eyes, and continued before she could ask about that further. "And yeah, it's been a long time... and it's different, now, than it used to be back before Eurasia. For all of us." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "We're all different. Him as much as you and me."

"I imagine so," she said carefully, pulling her hand back now. Despite how she felt about that, she took a deep breath before continuing. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"You wouldn't mind?" He glanced at her quickly. "It's not exactly... well..." He seemed to be having trouble finding the right words, and after a moment of that, she cut in.

"It's all right," she assured him. "It's what we do, isn't it? You'd do the same for me, if I was in that situation."

"It's..." He hesitated, then hung his head. "He's so _tired _now, Alia. Ever since he came back, it's like the war's been all he's living for. All he really cares about. And the worst part is, he doesn't even enjoy it any more, the way he used to when he was younger. I never got how he could do that, but now that he doesn't any more... I almost miss when he did. At least then he'd smile like he meant it. Now, I don't know _what _to think about him any more."

"It's probably not because he's been spending so much time with King," she said carefully, thinking it over. "He's grim, but not that much."

"King?" X shook his head, chuckling softly for a moment. "Nah. I can see why you'd wonder about that, but if that hasn't rubbed off on guys like Earl or Baron, it wouldn't have on Zero. Even if they're brothers." He sighed. "For a while, I thought it was just me. That I was jealous, or something. But then I thought about that, and I realized it was just the opposite. I'm glad. For both of them. That they have each other now."

"All right." Alia slowly nodded. "Then it's probably the simplest explanation. Zero's just grown old, X. Just like we have. Just like everybody does. Human, reploid, Robot Master... we might not all age physically, but our minds change. You and me, and him as well."

"Yeah," he agreed after a moment. "Yeah, maybe. You're probably right. It's just..." He balled his hands up into fists. "Tonight, he said something. He told me that he had a feeling he wasn't going to be here for long, this time. That he wasn't going to make it out of the war. He _never _used to think things like that."

"And what do you think?" She asked, and again he looked at her, and now his turquoise eyes were filled with sorrow and confusion.

"Alia, I don't know _what _to think any more," he murmured sadly. "The world's gone insane. Sometimes I think we've all gone insane too. Things like fate, and destiny, and ghosts of the past... it's all well and good to speculate about them, but to act like they're playing a direct hand in how events play out... it's crazy, but even though I know it is, I can't argue against it. What if he's right, Alia? What if I've finally gotten him back, only to lose him again soon, even if we somehow manage to win? For good, this time?"

"Then make the most of the time you have with him," she told him calmly. "Keep on meeting with him, like tonight. Have as many good times as you can. And if he's right..." She closed her eyes. "Remember the good times. We've both learned how to do that, by now, far too often." She opened them again, then, and stared into his. "And then fight. Fight with everything you have, to make sure that doesn't happen. Watch his back, and trust him to watch yours. And find a way to win this war. If anybody can, it's you two."

He waited, patiently, as she spoke, watching her and listening without a word. Once she'd finished, he remained silent for a moment, as if taking all of that in. And then he nodded, and reached over to take her hand in his.

"X?" She asked softly, confused now.

"We talked about a lot of things, down there," he explained quietly, and now he was no longer looking away from her, and his eyes-why did she keep thinking about his eyes tonight?-were strange to her again. "One of those things was us. You and me."

"He noticed, too, did he?" She asked, surprised at the cynical tone in her voice. "I suppose it was only a matter of time." To her surprise, rather than quietly accepting that like usual, X actually flinched, though only slightly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "He noticed."

"Is something wrong, X?" She queried him, more confused than ever now.

"It is," he admitted. "But not something recent. It's more like something's been wrong for a long time now, and I never realized it until he yelled some sense into me. Maybe it's because he's had experience with this sort of thing before, and I haven't, but..." He took a deep breath, still holding her hand. "Do you remember that promise we made?"

"Of course I do," she said softly, before a sudden thought struck her, one that chilled her to the core. "Are you saying that now that Zero's back..." Despite everything, despite her own nature, somehow, she couldn't finish vocalizing that thought.

"Zero..." X closed his eyes. "Zero's my brother. The brother who I've fought beside all my life. He was the person I relied on most, and when I lost him, I didn't know what to do with myself. That's why I asked you... and never once thought about just how much I was screwing things up, for both of us, by doing so. I never realized that no matter how much I needed you, that it was so completely different from why I needed him. I'm sorry, Alia. I've made a real mess of things. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course," she whispered, still not understanding what he was getting at. Her microfusion generator was running even faster than ever, but her thoughts were just the opposite, almost seeming to be frozen in her mind. "But there's nothing to forgive. You know that, X. We have an understanding. We know each other, don't we?"

"I thought that, for a long time," he told her quietly. "But there was something I've been missing. Something we've both been missing. Something I should have done long ago, but never did. Because I was too much of a fool to see it. And now the world's gone mad, and everything is dying around us, and I don't know how much time left we have." He waited a moment before continuing, and his next words nearly stopped her generator in its tracks. "But as long as we do... as long as there's any hope at all... I know I don't deserve it, but... do you think, maybe, we could try again?"

"X?" She asked him, a desperate, silent hope she thought she'd extinguished forever rearing up again. "X, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're the only person I've ever cared about even more than Zero," he whispered in the dark. "_You're _the most important person in the world to me, Alia. More important than anything. Everything we both thought, all the excuses we made... they seem so silly now. I don't give a damn about the anti-fraternization regulations. I don't care what anybody on base thinks, or says, or does. What I care about is _you_, Alia. Please... stay with me. For as long as there's anything left in this world at all, for either of us."

She hesitated, for a moment, and only a moment, as she took in everything he'd said and everything it meant. They sat there, side by side, hand in hand in her darkened quarters, with nothing in the world but her and him. And then she slowly raised her other hand to his cheek, and drew his face closer to his.

"I've been waiting for you to ask for thirty years," she murmured, her eyes streaming, as she smiled. "I thought you never would."

They drew together, with nobody to see them, nothing to lose, and everything to gain. And for the first time since the war had began, as her lips found his, Alia put her thoughts aside, and lived in the moment.

**June 5, 2186, 7:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Donia," Signas said calmly, not looking up from his desktop projector in the war room; the main display showed, as usual these days, a global map with all key locations marked, both friendly and enemy.

"Sir?" She replied, keeping her voice carefully level as she glanced over to him.

"A matter has come to my attention which, I must confess, is causing me a certain level of confusion," he explained to her, still not looking her way. "I wonder if, perhaps, you could shed some light on the situation."

"I'll do my best, sir," she replied, still keeping a straight face, though doing so was becoming increasingly difficult. "How can I help?"

"You could start by explaining why this room is so popular this morning," he replied, finally turning his head, his own features like stone, neither amused nor disapproving. "As I recall, we _are _currently in the middle of a massive global conflict, and yet I find a disproportionate number of our top staff gathered here rather than remaining with their men."

"I really couldn't tell you anything more than anybody else here about that, sir," she told him with absolute honesty.

"Donia," he said firmly, and though she'd heard Alia say her name in that exact tone hundreds of times, even she wasn't impetuous enough to push it with _him _the way she did with her best friend. Fortunately, before she had time to actually come up with an-gag-_explanation_, help came from another quarter.

"We're only here because our city-states are all dead quiet, at the moment," Zero Omega chimed in as he walked her way from where he'd been talking with Lassiter. It had been a long time since her youth, but he was still as smoking as she remembered, though something in his eyes-something similar to X's and Alia's-added years that weren't reflected on the rest of his features. "We're keeping an eye on the map. As soon as anything happens anywhere, whoever's stationed there'll be off. God bless warp technology."

"I will admit that that _sounded _like an actual explanation," Signas said, turning to him. "However, upon reflection, I find that I still have absolutely no idea what the _reason _for this impromptu gathering is. I trust that _somebody _here will provide me with one? Preferably sometime within the next millennium?"

"Grouchy, isn't he?" Zero commented quietly-though not so much that Signas wouldn't be able to hear him-to her.

"He hasn't been getting his stasis," she muttered back. "It's been driving Lifesaver up the wall and down again."

"Silver linings."

"It's really very simple, actually," a fourth voice entered the conversation just as Signas' eyes narrowed dangerously. Bastion, former Captain of the 21st Unit-before her time, unfortunately, though from what she'd heard he was off the market anyways-had been leaning against the back wall with the rest of his friends from the Scion's Zenith. All seven of them, plus Cossack's Robot Masters, were among those gathered in the room, though they and Zero were the only representatives of Mecha present. "We're here to offer congratulations."

"And maybe a few whistles and catcalls, while we're at it," Wycost, the green-armored New Yorker at his right, added.

"Congratulations?" Signas raised an eyebrow, ignoring that.

"It goes sort of like this," Bastion's girl, a pink-and-blonde beauty whose accent pegged her as British, said with a smile. "Word's been going around that sometime last night, an old friend of most of those gathered here managed to finally shape up and deal with a certain personal problem that had been bothering him for some time."

"Specifically, a problem having to do with another member of your staff, who the rest of us are here to do more or less the same for," Donia added, giving in; she'd been the one to spread the word, after she'd told X where to find Alia the previous evening. Something about the way the Second Blue Bomber had asked the question, calm as he'd been, had aroused her suspicions, which had been confirmed when neither of them emerged from her quarters. "Some of us are here for both."

"I see." Signas slowly nodded. "Well. It's about time."

"Here they come!" Douglas suddenly hissed; he'd been standing watch by one of the doors, but now was returning to his seldom-used chair quickly. "Everybody act natural!" A few moments later, X and Alia both walked in together; glancing over her shoulder casually, Donia noted with a mix of approval and disgust that they were actually holding hands. Pausing in the doorway, they looked around the room, and the looks on their faces showed that they'd instantly caught on to what was going on.

Before either of them could respond, Zero let out a loud whoop and began clapping. Donia was the next to cheer and join in, and less than a moment later nearly everybody there was following suit, hollering as if the Captain of the 17th had just proposed. Only Signas remained stone-faced as the two lovebirds patiently waited for the applause to die down, not moving an inch from where they still stood together.

"Are we done?" X asked once the war room was quiet once more.

"You wish," Zero called over, grinning broadly. "After how long everybody's been waiting for this? You're not getting off _that _easily."

"How long _you've _been waiting?" He demanded, slightly incredulously.

"Do you have any idea how painful it's been watching you two dance around the subject for _one _year, let _alone _how long it's actually been going on?" Hazil, the irascible old doctor-another who'd been gone before Donia had signed on with the Hunters-hollered. "If you hadn't come to your senses, I'd have had Earl singing 'Kiss The Girl' next chance I got the two of you in the same place."

"_Earl?_" Alia said, her expression a study in about half a dozen different emotions, running the gamut from amusement to horror and several others in between.

"It'd get the point across, wouldn't it?"

"All right, all right, cut it out, guys," Douglas told them. Ignoring the disappointed groans from several of the others, he grinned at them both. "All joking aside, the _real _reason we're all here is because we're glad for you. We won't ask for the details, but you've got our support, and our best wishes, all of us."

"Speak for yourself," Donia shot over.

"I think not," Alia replied coolly. "Especially considering this particular gathering has your name written all over it."

"Who, me?" She asked innocently.

"Yes, you."

"What Douglas said," Zero cut her response off, and for once, she let it lie; there was no reason to go spoiling the mood by bickering. "Good for both of you."

"Thank you," Alia told him, and all of the buried animosity-so deeply hidden that even she probably hadn't been aware of it herself-was gone from her gaze now when she looked his way. "For everything."

"Yeah." X nodded, still smiling, before letting it drop as they both saw Signas looking at them. Exchanging a glance, he and Alia advanced on the Commander, stopping in front of his desk, still firmly-almost defiantly-holding hands. After a moment, the Captain of the 17th looked his leader in the eye, calm and cool. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Signas replied gravely. A beat later, he smiled as well. "Don't be ridiculous, X. Congratulations to you both."

"You don't mind, then, sir?" Alia asked, a faint note of challenge in her voice.

"Not one bit," he assured her. "There are far, far more important things at stake than anti-fraternization regulations, these days. In a world as dismal as this one, any happiness we can find is invaluable, more than ever before. The both of you deserve all that you can find. You have my blessing, both as your leader... and, I hope, as your friend." He raised his voice. "And should any others dispute that decision, they are more than welcome to take it up with _me_. I'll be all too glad to explain the situation to them personally. In great detail."

"He means with his sword, if necessary," Douglas added in a theatrical stage whisper, and everybody laughed, even Signas himself. It had been an eternity since Donia had heard that in the War Room, and for a moment as she joined in, she almost forgot everything that had happened over the last year and more to make it so.

At that moment, the sirens began to blare, and the lights in the room flashed red.

"Alert!" The base's computer warned them. "Enemy attack! An enemy presence has been detected within Japan!"

"Where?" Signas roared, as everybody turned to stare at the main projector. "Where are they? Show us!" Immediately, the display zoomed in on the island, before abruptly shifting so as to view it from the side, rather than above. Locating a sheer cliffside above the ocean, the display indicated a hole in the side of the rock face, twenty feet in diameter.

"Well, that explains how they got in without being noticed until now," Lassiter growled. "Still, what are they playing at? Are they planning on coming up in the middle of Tokyo?"

"It's the wrong side for that," Alia said, sitting down at her desk as X did the same. "They'd never even make it close before we caught them and wiped them out." She suddenly went pale. "Oh, no. Mecha."

"No, it's not that." Bastion shook his head. "At least I don't think it is. Can we get an idea of how deep that tunnel is?"

"Scanning," Donia reported; she'd started doing so as soon as she'd seen it. A moment later, the display changed, showing the updated information; it was a straight tunnel, one that was already several miles deep. "He's right. Wrong place to start, wrong direction to dig. They're heading somewhere else. We should be able to get a better idea of just how many of them there are down there momentarily."

"We can probably rule out a trap," Zero said, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "They've put too much effort into it. They're going too fast. Whatever it is they're after, they want to get it and get out before we catch them at it."

"But what?" Signas demanded. "What could possibly be buried beneath Japan of such interest to them that they would risk this?" The war room was silent then, no answers forthcoming, until one finally did.

"The capsules," X said quietly, staring at the projector with absolute hatred, and his voice carried through the entire room. "They're going for my father's armor capsules."


	14. Chapter 12: The Sleeping Giant

_**Chapter 12: The Sleeping Giant **_

**Duo's Log 034 **

**12050 Earth Days since departure **

Something wholly unanticipated has occurred.

It has been a very long time since I departed from the blue planet called Earth, a planet that was not and never was mine, despite the temptation to make it so, and leave my quest behind. Regardless, I have journeyed amongst the stars ever since, for what I calculate has been equivalent to more than thirty Earth years. Though I have explored many different galaxies, and seen many different worlds, my goal still eludes me. There has as of yet been no sign of a world that could have given birth to my people, or a civilization that could have created them.

And yet, the journey has not been without its own rewards. My time on Earth has changed me more than I knew, and now, I anticipate each new planet I visit simply for its unique qualities. More than once, I have found myself tarrying on a world I have already ruled out as my home, enjoying the experience of exploration. There are sights in this universe beyond anything I could have imagined, and now, I have the depth of understanding to fully appreciate them. I only wish that I could have shared this new perception with the rest of my kind.

However, this entry is not meant to record those experiences. I have done so numerous times on previous occasions, when a particularly interesting or beautiful planet struck my fancy, and while those accounts still hold value to me, there are other discoveries which I have made during my travels. Ones that are of a much more personal nature, that are associated with myself and my nature rather than the vast cosmos in which I journey, and that raise more and more questions about what I am, and how it was that we were created.

I have spoken before of the blue light that is ours, that rushes through our circuits and gives us life while also powering many other abilities, some active and others passive. Perhaps due to my association with creators such as Doctor Light and his son Auto, since my departure from their planet, I have slowly begun considering that power in-pardon the pun-a new light. Though it seemed unlikely, I could not help but wonder if there were other abilities that I was unaware of, uses for that unknown energy that even the eldest of my kind were never able to discover and pass on to the rest.

I have experimented in depth during my journey, and while at first my efforts availed me naught, eventually I began to confirm that hypothesis of mine. By practicing the uses which I knew of to the point of perfection, I began to consider other, theoretical ways in which to channel that power. And by testing those theories in turn, I was able to discover entirely new abilities, and educate myself in how to best utilize them.

I am far beyond what I once was, when I came to Earth, much more than the capabilities of my systems alone. In truth, those systems no longer bind me; I have transformed myself into different states of matter entirely, though only temporarily, both plasmic and gaseous (I have yet to attempt a liquid, for few planets contain an environment suitable for testing that particular form). It is both wondrous and frightening, and raises questions all the more about what it is I truly am.

My sight now extends beyond the stars; I can gaze upon the entirety of a solar system, and see the exact locations of every object within it, all at once while within it myself. I have found myself able to achieve the speed of light while maintaining my original form at a moment's thought, making Earth's warp technology pale in comparison. My own ability to move from one place to another has been amplified to the point where I can now, in fact, exist in more than one location simultaneously.

I can speak from the depths of one planet, and cause my voice to echo throughout the empty caverns of another, galaxies away. When I gather my power in my fist, I no longer dare to test it on anything I see, for I now fear that the destruction a direct blow would cause may have catastrophic consequences for reality itself. I now know, without a doubt, that I am the last of my kind, for if any others remained I would have sensed them no matter how far away they were.

As I discovered each new power, so too did my mind expand along with them, developing new insights scientific as well as aesthetic. My knowledge of all sciences is far beyond even Doctor Light's dreams now; were I inclined, I believe I would be capable of creating a new planet, one which would survive long after I departed. For obvious reasons, however, I have shied away from that particular hubris; there are some doors which are best left unopened, by conscious decision if not by lack of ability.

It has become abundantly clear that something has changed since my younger days, something about the fundamental nature of this mysterious power that fuels my existence. Originally, I hypothesized that there were other abilities yet undiscovered, but my successes have far exceeded that theory, and left me no recourse but to find another explanation. Eventually, I concluded that the change most likely was not to do with myself, but with the blue energy of purification. Something changed the way it manifests within me, and through me, into this universe.

I can only assume that it is _because _I am the last of my kind that my powers have expanded so immensely; what was once held by many now rests solely within my body. While it is perhaps symbolically appropriate that I am now in possession of the energy of my entire species, it raises yet more troubling implications; that the energy is only channeled through us, rather than originating within us, and its true source is somewhere else entirely, something beyond my current understanding even in its expanded state.

I have often wondered if I might even be able to transform myself from a mechanical form into an organic one, though a combination of environmental factors and my own fears has kept me from testing this as of this log.

It was during one of these tests that the unexpected event which I mentioned at the beginning of this log occurred. On a whim, I attempted to see if I could locate the planet Earth, galaxies away, with my expanded consciousness. Not only was this successful, but in that instant, I became aware of much more information than simple awareness of its continued existence. It seems, to my surprise, that my destiny will be intertwined with that of that beautiful blue planet one more time before I continue to my journey's conclusion.

Like all of my other abilities, that with which I perceive the future has been expanded by my experimentation. I now follow a set path, one which I see stretching ahead of me through both time and space, and one which I know will eventually end, though I know not where that will be or what I will find there. When I located Earth with my mind and my energy, I saw through time as well as space, instantly realizing everything that had passed there in my absence, as well as much-though not all-of what is yet to come.

All of this, of course, was a matter of merely academic curiosity to me, save for one thing only. It seems that there are those on Earth who, like I, were once contemporaries of the family of Light, and who safeguard the legacy of their times all in secret into the new age. For some reason unknown to me, they have been attempting to contact me for some time, sending out messages at random into the depths of space, based on a wild hope that one of them might someday reach my sensors and persuade me to return in order to assist them.

My time with Earth is over. I will have no further impact upon the course of that world's history. I know this, and yet, I also know that I must return one last, brief time. For though I do not know yet what it is they will ask of me, what wish they hope I will grant, somehow I know that it is not relevant to Earth's future, but to something else. Like me, these men in their hidden city look beyond the skies and stars, and so I will listen to what it is they desire of me, as one colleague to others. Only then will I return, and continue my journey to its unknown conclusion.

It will be the journey of a moment, gone in the blink of an eye and there in another, despite how many years I have traveled. And when I have finished there, I will return just as easily, and find the answers I seek at last.

**June 5, 2186, 7:15 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

Confusion and chaos had exploded in the war room. Following X's declaration, nearly everybody present had begun to shout, and all of them had something different to say. Narrowing his eyes, Signas let them babble for a few moments before taking action.

"Enough!" He bellowed, as loud as he could. "Silence, all of you! We do not have the time to waste on this foolishness!" They obeyed, some of them-the Scion's Zenith in particular-more grudgingly than others, and once they had, he turned to one of the few present who hadn't started yelling. "Now, then. X. Please explain."

"It's the only explanation that makes sense," the Captain of the 17th told him grimly, still staring at the projector. "There's nothing else down there, but my father's legacy _is_. We never managed to find it ourselves, so it must be buried in a completely different place than Mecha, or any part of Tokyo. Even King had no idea where they were. But Wily... he might have been able to figure out a way to track them down, somehow."

"If anybody could, it'd be him," Alia agreed, putting a hand on his arm without taking her eyes off of the projector. "That's what makes him so dangerous, more than anything else. He always seems to find ways to do things the rest of us would consider impossible. From what I know of history, he always has, even before the Robot Rebellions. Even now, we _still _don't have any idea how he manages to do a lot of what he's shown us. It's possible."

"They're right," a new voice chipped in, one that surprised Signas; by the looks on X's and Alia's faces, along with several others, he wasn't the only one. It was Lifesaver, of all people, and unlike them he wasn't looking at the projector; instead, he stared his Commander in the eye as he continued. "It's an entirely plausible explanation. Once we accept that, it's natural that those capsules would be one of Wily's highest priorities."

The armor capsules were something Signas was mainly familiar with through stories from others; for the most part, they had been before his time. During the early Maverick Uprisings, they had risen from the earth at optimal places and times in order to deliver upgrades to X, piece by piece, five of them that each bore a different part of the whole armor. From his understanding, they were further proof of Doctor Light's genius, created from completely unknown metals and components that were centuries ahead of modern science.

As time had passed, and the Second Blue Bomber's skills as a warrior had increased, the capsules had started showing up less and less. Following the Fourth Maverick Uprising, they had remained absent until the Fall of Eurasia, by which time all but the latest-the Nova Armor-had fallen apart; for some reason, their creator had designed them to do so after a certain amount of use, most likely based on some moral principle. No matter what it had been, however, Signas lamented it as foolishness, a waste of an advantage that was needed now more than ever.

There had been six of them, one for each of the first four Maverick Uprisings and then two during the fall of Eurasia, though those two had already somewhat deteriorated when they had been given. The Paladin, Retribution, and Golden Hyper suits had all been lost during the Seventh, while the Nova Armor had lasted until Eurasia, though it hadn't survived it. The Gaia and Falcon suits had outlived the rest, due to their late delivery date, but over the decades since Eurasia's fall, X had eventually stopped using them as well. Signas had honestly believed he'd seen the last of them, until now.

"But why?" Douglas interjected. "What does he want from them? They're coded not to respond to anybody but X, right?"

"Not exactly." Zero shook his head slowly, looking troubled. "Back during Eurasia, I ran across a couple. They said because X trusted me, more than anybody else, their programming had accepted me as well, and handed 'em over for delivery since I was in the area anyways." He inclined his head towards Alia. "Doubt it's ever going to come up, but if you ever did the same, they'd probably give you a pass too."

"But even if they'll interact with others, the armor doesn't work with anybody but X," she pointed out. "It's specifically designed that way. There's nothing they'd be able to get out of them. Isn't that why Sigma never bothered trying this?"

"That was Sigma, though," X murmured. "And this is Wily. They might not give him the time of day... but that just means he'd take them apart to see what made them tick himself. And he was my father's only equal. He's the only one who actually might be able to." He scowled then. "Of course, the A.I. will probably take that into account. There's a pretty good chance they'll self-destruct once they realize the Faithful are about to take them in."

"Wily would be able to figure that out, too, though," Zero grumbled. "Is he just gambling, or... no." His eyes widened in realization. "X, they haven't shown up since Eurasia, right?"

"They haven't," X agreed. "We all thought they had nothing more to give us."

"But what if they don't?" The Crimson Hunter continued, all eyes on him. "What if there's something more they're still holding back? One last prize, saved for the darkest hour? What if _you _were supposed to find them down there, if something ever happened to make you that desperate? Best case scenario, Wily manages to get _his _hands on it. Worst case, he still keeps it out of _our _hands... and at the same time, makes sure that even if he somehow loses this fight, you won't have them around for the next one if there's anything _more_."

"The next one?" Donia cut in. "Does that freak even think that far ahead?"

"Always," Zero said coldly. "He always has. Even back in the First Robot Rebellion, he was already planning the Second, and possibly the Third. Wily plays the long game, and he never rules out the possibility that he might have to fall back and try again later. Look at how long he waited before this one. I know how he thinks, and trust me, this is exactly the kind of thing he'd do. We gotta stop them before they get there."

"It looks like there's about a hundred and fifty Faithful in there," Alia said as their scans of the tunnel continued to update the globe. "No, wait, a hundred and fifty-one. Their leader." Her eyes narrowed as a side projector brought up a familiar profile, one they all recognized. "Glacier Le Cactank. I suppose it's natural he'd send one of his best to oversee it. That's going to take at least one Unit, preferably two, to deal with."

"One'll do," X told them. "I'll call the 17th back from London and-"

"You will do no such thing," Signas interjected. "We have talked about this before, X. Your personal desires and preferences come second to our duty. You and the 17th have been assigned to London, and that is where you will remain."

A moment later, the alarms blared again, and the globe zoomed back out and turned to show the point on the map representing London glowing red.

"Enemy attack!" Lily, one of the other Navigators, announced. "The Mavericks and the Faithful both! They're slamming London with an all-out assault!"

"There weren't _that _many of them there before," Alia hissed as more projectors began displaying satellite footage of the city in question; the enemy went on for miles, as far as the eye could see, and they were swarming the walls like a hive of enraged hornets, heedless of the dreadful casualties they were taking from the defenders. "They're throwing everything they have at that city. If they did this every time, even they'd run out. This isn't a coincidence."

"They knew I was assigned to London," X agreed. "And that we'd spot that tunnel of theirs this morning. They planned this deliberately."

"There's no way that city will hold up against that," Bristol murmured with horror. "They'll lose hundreds... thousands... but they'll get through that wall. London's already lasted against them for more than half a year. That's why they waited until now to go after those capsules. As soon as the timing was right, they moved."

"Damn them," X snarled, slamming his fist into his desk. "Damn them all! Signas, I know this is bad, but-"

"There is no 'but,' X," he told him severely. "More than ever, your duty is clear. Lily, inform Pitbull and Prince to begin the evacuation of London. The 7th and 3rd will relieve them in an hour, while the 15th and 30th will remain here in case of a direct attack on Tokyo."

"So that's it, then?" X demanded, staring at him. "We just let Wily get away with it? This is what he _wants_, Signas! He'll accomplish his objective, and laugh at us while we just stand back and watch him do it!"

"I'm sorry, X," Signas replied honestly. "But the evacuation of civilian lives _must _be our highest priority. World population levels are already dangerously low, and they drop further with every city we lose. Compared to that, even your father's legacy is an acceptable loss. This is war, and sometimes hard decisions must be made. Our resources are stretched as thin as we can go. I can't authorize a personal mission at this time. We _need _the 17th where they are, X... and so do the people of London. There's nothing either of us... any of us... can do about this."

"All right," X said slowly. "I won't call the 17th back. You're right. London needs them." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm going in alone."

"X?" Alia demanded sharply.

"Better, but my answer is still no," Signas told him, narrowing his eyes and frowning deeper. "Your presence is required in London as much as the rest of your Unit's. Return there immediately and assist in the evacuation."

"The 17th doesn't need me," X argued. "I've trained them specifically not to. Arvis is the one who always tells them what to do in the field anyways. All I am is one soldier, and that's not going to make much of a difference."

"It does if that soldier is you," Signas growled. "As you have pointed out to me yourself the last time we had this discussion, you alone are worth an entire Unit in combat, X. As much as I hate to admit it, it's true."

"You agreed with me the last time," X reminded him. "About Zero. And I was right." The object of their discussion remained silent, like everybody else in the war room, simply watching the leader of the Hunters and their greatest warrior, arguing once more.

"Last time, you were only risking your own life!" Signas shot back angrily. "Now, the difference will be made in both our men and in civilian casualties as well! I am Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, Mega Man X, and you are the Captain of the 17th Unit, under _my _command! You _will _obey your orders! Now go!"

Slowly, in absolute silence, X shook his head.

"Then you give me no choice," Signas said quietly. "Mega Man X, I hereby-"

"Hold it," Zero cut in, and they both turned to look at him as he walked forward. "You need a one-man army in London? All right. You'll get one. I'll take X's place there while he takes care of business on the home front. Like he said, the 17th fights the same with or without him. If I'm there, it'll be just as good."

"Your offer is appreciated," Signas told him, calming his rage. "But this is a matter of discipline as much as it is of deployment, now. You've made your decision, X, and now I must make mine as well, no matter how much I detest the necessity."

"So do it," X told him, calmer now as well. "But _after _the war is done. You said it yourself. You guys need me, if we're going to win this one. Delay your judgment until then. Once this is all over, if we're still alive, I'll accept any sentence. Court martial me, discharge me, execute me, I don't care. But _only _once we know the world's going to survive."

"No!" Alia broke in. "I won't let that happen! I'm not going to lose you, after all of this, X! You'll have to do the same to me!" Turning to her desk, she rapidly began tapping at her keys. "Donia, take over for me in London. I'll be serving as X's Navigator during this operation. And if that puts me in the same boat, so be it."

"Alia..." X started to say, then paused, before sighing. "Thanks."

"How many times do I have to say it?" Signas growled. "The answer is no, and it will _remain _no!"

"And how exactly do you plan to stop me?" X asked him, and the eyes of everybody present widened.

"Explain," Signas said after a long moment, then continued before X could reply. "Not what you meant. _That _is obvious. Explain to me why you are _this _determined. What is it, X? Is it because it is your father's legacy? You know better than that. Lives are more important than any capsules or armor. You, more than anybody else, have always believed so."

"I know," X agreed, looking troubled now. "And I wish I could explain this to you. I don't even know myself why I'm getting so worked up about this. But..." He took a deep breath. "Something about this... I just _know _there's more to it than that. Whatever it is that's down there waiting for us, we _need _to get. There's _something _there that's vitally important, to the entire world as much as to me. I don't know how I know this, I just..." For a moment, Signas almost thought he could see his eyes beginning to glow, but then it was gone, a trick of the light. "I just _know_."

"If King was here, he'd say that was good enough for him," Zero interjected. "That sounds like the other side of this conflict. The part that's about more than... well, you know." He grimaced. "And as much as I hate that stuff, it only shows up when it _is _that important."

"I am not King," Signas reminded them. "And I do not make military decisions based on impulse and feeling, and _especially _not on superstition."

"Then make it to counter Wily," Zero pointed out. "Like X said, he planned this, and he put a lot of work into it. _That's _how we know how vital this is. Don't fall for it. Let me go, and let X stop this."

"They have a point, Commander," Lifsaver spoke up again. "They're making sense."

"Even you won't be able to win against those odds, X," Signas said after a moment, reluctantly acknowledging the truth of the Crimson Hunter's words. "A hundred and fifty to one is too much, in such close quarters, and we cannot spare anybody to go with you."

"No problem," Bastion said firmly, and the other members of the Scion's Zenith all nodded, reploid and Robot Master both. "We're on leave in Mecha right now. We wouldn't all be here if we weren't. We'll back you up on this one, X."

"Bastion?" X turned to stare at him.

"What he said," Wycost agreed. "For old time's sake, if nothing else. Been a long time since you and me fought side by side, but I'm willing to give it a go, and so are the rest of us. Ain't that right, girls?" Willow and Bristol both nodded firmly. "Allegro? Phare? Fellas?"

"We're with you, X," Pharaoh Man spoke for them all. "And I think that's more than enough to handle a hundred and fifty Faithful and Cactank."

"Well?" X turned to Signas.

"X..." the Commander of the Maverick Hunters started to say, then stopped. Closing his eyes, he considered the situation from all angles, and slowly, reluctantly came to the only conclusion he possibly could. Opening his eyes again, he met those of the Second Blue Bomber, and nodded. "Very well. Zero Omega, I am reinstating you as a Maverick Hunter on a temporary basis, for this operation only. Depart for London immediately to reinforce the 17th and 13th Units in the defense and evacuation of London."

"Out." Zero raised a pair of fingers. "Good luck, X. See you when the dust settles." And then he was gone, a bright red streak of light launching through the ceiling.

"Mega Man X, your mission is to repel the Maverick strike force which has made this incursion into our territory," Signas continued. "You will be reinforced by our allies in the Scion's Zenith, and supported by Alia. Your orders are simple. Seek and destroy. Do not allow a single one of these wretches to escape." He kept his face cold as he continued. "We will discuss disciplinary measures once this war is over, as you wish."

"Understood," X replied quietly.

**June 5, 2186, 4:30 PM **

**London, England **

It was something that he'd known for nearly his entire military career, but had never been able to accurately describe. While Pitbull normally dismissed anything even remotely supernatural out of hand-though that preference had been sorely tested in recent days, just like the rest of the Hunters-he'd always made an exception for the instincts he himself possessed, and which he'd noticed in most if not all of his fellow veterans. It was something that happened to old soldiers as they gained experience-the ones that made it to _be _old soldiers, anyways-and nothing more.

The closest term he'd ever heard to describe it was a sixth sense, but to him, that wasn't entirely accurate. He'd always felt it in his scars, the way they would ache just like they did sometimes when it was cold or raining, even when the sky was bright and warm. That was the tipoff that always put him on edge for action, and it had never failed him, which was why the Captain of the 13th Unit had made his way up to the walltop to glare out at the besieging armies, despite how relatively calm the day had been so far.

"Oh, hey," a familiar voice hailed him, as Prince walked around the side of a heavy gun emplacement. "I was wondering if I'd see you up here." The younger-looking reploid was frowning, an unusual expression for his normally cheerful features even in these times. "Is it just me, or is something... off today?"

"You too, huh?" Pitbull drawled, walking over. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. Your instincts are acting up, kid, and if they're as sharp as mine are, that means you can feel what's coming, just like I can."

"What's coming?" Prince blinked.

"Trouble," he told him flatly, glaring out at the armies of the Faithful on the east side of the city-state. "Don't know why or when, but trouble's coming our way. Every time I feel it in the air like this, it's never long until things turn bloody. My boys and girls'll be getting ready; they all know what it's like. Might want to spread the word among your own."

"I already have," Prince told him soberly. "I might not be as familiar with it as you, but when I feel something like that, I listen to it."

"Knew you were a smart one, kid." Pitbull chuckled, then trailed off as he saw something starting to come into view over the horizon. "And that's good for all of us. Because unless I miss my guess, here we go."

"What the hell?" Prince muttered, narrowing his eyes as they both watched the approach of whatever it was that was coming their way from beyond the Faithful. And then it was close enough that they could see it, and their eyes widened in the same moment as they beheld a massive fleet of airships, dozens upon dozens of gigantic destroyers blasting towards the city at maximum speed in a single massed swarm.

"Anti-aircraft cannons!" Pitbull roared into his helmet's communicator as Prince gaped. "Fire, fire, fire! Don't let 'em through!" Despite his words, however, he could already see that that was a lost cause. There were simply too many of them, too big and too well-armored, moving too fast. Around the walltop, massive plasma defense cannons began opening fire, blasting individual targets with practiced aim. Even with direct hits, however, it took mutiple shots to penetrate the hulks' shields; some went down, but the majority continued onward.

"They're going to make it!" Prince yelled, staring in horror as the fleet blotted out the sun ahead of them, massive beam emitters on their undersides opening up like flowers spreading their petals as glowing energy began to focus at the center, the weapons preparing to fire. "We can't stop them all! What do we do?"

"We _get down!_" Pitbull roared as the airships emptied their missile batteries, releasing what damn near looked like every one aboard all in one go over the city of London. Only a moment later, as the missiles screamed down, the first giant beam fired, and then the next, and the next, and the next.

Hitting the deck, he was relieved to see Prince doing the same, and then the first beam hit. The noise was unimaginable; had his helmet not included ear protection, both his eardrums would have been ruptured. Motionless and exposed, he couldn't so much as move with how violently everything around them was shaking. All he could do was wait it out, with Prince nearby, and hope that none of the beams or missiles found them. Although if they did, on the plus side, he wouldn't have time to realize it.

Fortunately, his luck held up; soon enough, the noise and the quaking began dying down. Climbing back to his feet, Pitbull swore viciously in four different languages, changing them in midsentence. London had been dealt the deathblow. Though there were no actual gaps in the wall as of yet, he could see six different spots within eyesight alone that wouldn't hold up to more than a token assault, one he had no doubt was coming soon. Already, he got hear the war cries of the Maverick berserkers, working themselves up for the slaughter that would shortly commence.

The worst of the damage, however, had been done to the city inside the walls. Passing overhead, the airships had unleashed their wrath on the vulnerable metropolis as they'd blasted past. Entire rows of buildings had been obliterated by the giant beam cannons, leaving trails of scorched wreckage fifteen feet wide that stretched for miles. The missiles-and dropped bombs, too, by the looks of it-had done no less damage. Even before the walls had fallen, a good ten percent of London had already been destroyed.

"Civilian casualties," Prince whispered in a sick tone of voice, standing up and staring in horror. "They must be-"

"Don't," Pitbull cut him off abruptly. "Don't think about it, and _definitely _don't try and figure out how many. What's done is done, and we've still got problems to deal with. A whole _shitload _of problems."

"Yeah." Prince shook himself. "Yeah. I'm good. Thanks."

"First time you've been slammed like that?" He asked, and when the reploid nodded, he clapped him on the shoulder. "It happens. Our job's to pick up the pieces after." He raised a hand to his helmet, activating the comm. "Pitbull. Tell me we grounded those birds."

"Blew every last one of 'em out of the sky, boss," Shrike replied. "Shame we couldn't do it any sooner. How's it looking?"

"Bad," he told her bluntly. "And it's going to get worse. All members of the 13th Unit, report to the barracks immediately."

"Ditto to all Mecha forces," Prince echoed him over his own comm. "We don't have much time." Lowering his hand, he gave first the walls and then Pitbull a critical look. "How long _do _you think we have?"

"Before they get in?" Pitbull spat. "Half an hour, an hour at most. We'd better have our troops deployed by then. X, you see that shit?" Dead silence was his only response. "X?"

"He ain't here, sir," Arvis told him. "Spendin' the night back at the MHHQ, I heard."

"Of all the goddamn times..." Pitbull started to snarl before forcing himself to cut off. "Come on, let's get down there." Grimacing, he fought off the automatic flinch he still felt every time he was about to warp-even after doing it a dozen times over, the habits of a lifetime were difficult to shake, and that particular technology had been a death sentence for humans for longer than his grandfather had been alive-and vanished into a blur of light that reformed moments later right outside the barracks assigned to the local defenders, Prince popping up next to him.

"Does that still bother you?" He asked.

"Can't slip anything past you, huh, kid?" Pitbull replied sourly before shaking his head. "It's nothing. You guys say the damn things won't do shit to us, that's good enough for me. Arvis, where are you?"

"Right here." The stout second-in-command of the 17th Unit said, walking out of the front door of the 17th's building.

"At least _somebody _is," he grumbled. "Goddammit, what's he doing back there at a time like this?"

"Way I hear it?" Arvis shrugged. "Working things out with Alia."

"Oh." He considered that for a moment before nodding. "Hell, it's about time. All right, fine. X'll be here soon, and he can catch up once he does. Let's get started." The three of them sat down at the meeting table and waited as their Hunters and Robot Masters poured in. Only once their entire force was assembled did Prince bring up the three-dimensional projection of the city, constantly updated in realtime to reflect its current status. It wasn't a pretty sight; the damage from the assault was clearly visible, both inside London itself and all over the walls.

"All right, folks, let's not kid ourselves," Pitbull started off. "We're fucked. They had to throw away a lot to make it happen, even for them, but it paid. We're changing plans as of now. From here on, we're in evacuation mode instead of defensive. Soon as we're done here, get out there, and save as many of these folks as you can. In forty-eight hours, London ain't gonna be here any more. We've all been through this song and dance, so we know how it goes. All we gotta figure out is how we're going to do it."

"Severe damage to the eastern, northern and southern walls..." Prince mused, looking over the map. "But not the western. That one's still relatively solid. They didn't make it that far. That suggests a plan of action to me."

"Mavericks are on the west side," Arvis grunted. "They'll be coming in through the north and the south. Faithful too, maybe, but they'll focus mostly on the east."

"You take that side, then," Pitbull told him. "Your unit's full reploid. Mine's only about a third, and Prince here's the only one in his. Humans and Robot Masters can't get infected."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Arvis nodded slowly. "All right, the 17th'll cover the east side of the city. Basil, Michael, take eight more guys and use all this damage to our advantage. I want barricades, and lots of them, all over every street that's taken hits. Use all this rubble and block 'em off. We brought plenty of party favors, so go ahead and set those up, too. Make sure any sucker who tries goin' down there anyways regrets it."

"There's a few streets that don't have any of that going on, sir," one of the 17th's Hunters pointed out. "They'll just come that way."

"That's where I'm headed," he continued. "Me and eight more'll go down there and establish a line of defense. They'll spot those streets, like you said, and come pourin' in, and we'll be ready for 'em. Jaken, you're in charge of the last ten. Start the evacuation. The MHHQ'll have personal transport units by the crateful comin' in soon. Pass 'em out, and make sure everybody knows they're safe for human use. Once you're done, Basil, you go join 'em."

"A practical plan," Prince murmured. "I like it. As a matter of fact, I think we'll do the same on the north side. Grimlock, you're in charge of the demolition squad. Cutter, you lead the evacuation team. Me and the rest will hold them off as long as we can."

"Just make sure you keep that in mind, kid," Pitbull advised him. "As long as you can. Make sure you get out when we're done here. Throwing your life away for nothing ain't gonna help anybody, especially us."

"Like you said, I've done this before," Prince reminded him, smiling tightly in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Good," he grunted. "13th Unit..." He glanced at the map for a moment, then made a rude noise. "Aaaaah, who am I kidding. Get out there, head south, and go wild, like you always do. No point in pretendin' you ain't gonna do that no matter _what _I tell you."

"That'd be insubordination, boss," Mike from his Unit-who thankfully didn't look a thing like the reploid with the same name in X's-pointed out. "Would we go and do that?"

"Any day of the week, and some that ain't," he shot back. "You all know what the hell you're doing. Get those people out of here, and kill anybody who gets in the way. There ya go. Orders so simple even you mugs can't screw 'em up."

"Almost make me want to try, just for the hell of it," a whip-thin rogue named Vasquez who Pitbull strongly suspected of having a much more colorful-red, particularly-past than he'd put on his application commented. "Almost."

"That 'almost' is the only reason you ain't bleedin' right now, Vasquez," his Captain growled. "Not the time, ladies."

"Awwwwwwww." Shrike pouted theatrically, and most of the 13th burst out laughing, along with about half of the 17th and even a few Robot Masters. It was strained, forced laughter, but it was there all the same, and Pitbull had to hide a smile of his own; there were other ways of dealing with stress, but this one had always been good enough for them.

"All right, let's get out there," Arvis told his men, standing up. "Anybody sees X, let him know what we're up to. Move, people!"

"We'd better do the same," Prince agreed, unsmiling; despite his outward calmness, his eyes were darting around the room wildly.

"Hey, kid," he muttered under his breath as Arvis walked off. "It'll be okay. This is gonna suck, and we'll take losses, but we'll make it. You said it yourself. We've all done this before. We'll do it again."

"Yeah." Prince agreed, nodding slowly. "Sorry. Maybe I'm not as used to this as I thought I was, even by now."

"You're new to it." Pitbull shrugged. "End of this war, _then _you'll be a burnt-out old piece of slag like the rest of us. Right now, you're only about halfway there. Maybe a quarter."

"Joy," the reploid murmured sardonically, his face back to normal now. Standing, he raised a hand. "All right, then. I'll hold you to that. I'll even buy the first round, once we're back there. Don't keep me waiting, old man."

"Last I checked, you were older than I was, and you're _still _a brat," Pitbull retorted, but he stood and shook the offered appendage all the same. "Good luck, kid. Go on, get out there. I got one last thing I gotta say to these chucklefucks."

"All right." Prince said. For a moment, he looked like he was about to say something more, but then he turned away, leading his men out through the door.

"Getting sentimental in your old age, Pitbull?" Harold rumbled once the door had closed, leaving only the 17th in the room. "_That's _new."

"Getting masochistic in yours?" Pitbull shot back. "I _wish _that was new. Too bad for you that ain't my thing and _you _ain't my type." Harold raised his hands in concession as a few of his fellow Hunters chuckled, and he waited for that to die down before continuing. "He's a good kid. Sheltered, yeah. Naive, sure. But a good kid, all the same. Him and the rest of 'em."

"We've got no issues fighting by their side," Shrike said, the rest of them unusually quiet now. "Dying, either."

"Yeah?" Pitbull nodded slowly. "Good. 'Cause our number's up, this time. New Delhi was one thing. We stood a chance, back then. This... naw. This is gonna be a slaughter, no matter _what _we do, after that opening act. If they were throwin' away that many ships just to open us up, we can expect the same after they _really _get going. Not a good time to die easier than reploids."

"Pretty sure we're slag this time too, boss," Quinze, one of their reploids, pointed out. "But we'll damn sure take a bunch of them with us. Gotta tell you, though, you're kind of shit at this whole 'inspiring speeches' thing."

"Where the hell have _you _been?" Pitbull demanded, prompting more laughter. "Give me a break. Like you'd believe it for a second if I tried, any of you. Naw, I ain't wasting the breath. All you suckers knew when you signed on that you were gonna go bad and bloody, like everybody does in this Unit, and crawling through our own blood and guts to drag that out as long as we can don't change the way it ends, so don't go pissin' your pants on me now. Now let's get out there and die like the dogs we are!"

It was almost disturbing how loudly they cheered.

**June 5, 2186, 7:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

They marched down the halls together, backs straight and pace swift, not quite running but walking much faster than usual. The grim, no-nonsense looks on their faces were enough for anybody who saw them to move out of their way quickly, and it wasn't long before they reached X's quarters. Now, she walked in behind him without a second thought; even had all of her doubts and concerns not been banished the previous night, the current situation would have driven them from her mind. There were more important things to worry about, right now.

"A hundred fifty, and Cactank," Alia repeated once they were alone. "With drones, and defenses already set up, in a narrow underground environment. Will fourteen people be enough, even if you're one of them?"

"More than," X assured her. "The Zenith were before your time, weren't they?"

"Shortly." She nodded. "As I understand it, Captain Bastion and Hazil both resigned shortly before my arrival. I've seen them in action during the war, though, and I will admit they're very good. I just hope it's enough."

"Very good is an understatement," X explained. "Five-or eight-of them are equal to an entire Unit, or a strike force from Mecha, in a fight. That's not just a bureaucratic division of forces. It's justified. And if that's not enough, they're the _only _team that hasn't lost a single man so far throughout this entire war."

"Three of them used to be Hunters, right?" She recalled, watching him walk across to the room to his closet. "Bastion, Wycost and Bristol."

"Well, yes and no," he said, as he began rummaging around in there. "Bastion and Wycost are both ex-21st, but Bristol was never assigned to a Unit. She was staff. We didn't know her full combat capabilities until after she'd left us to go find her past."

"The MI9 incident." She shuddered; even among the Hunters, most of that particular story was still shrouded in myth, but she'd heard enough to know just how bad it had been.

"Correct." He continued moving things around, clearing them away from the back of the closet. "You know, I still haven't heard the whole story about that. Remind me to ask Bastion or Pharaoh Man about that one of these days. Even if it won't be relevant, I'd like to know all the details. You never know what might be important some day."

"As has never been more apparent," she agreed, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of knowing things, would you mind if I asked just what you're doing?"

"Getting all this out of the way," he told her, stepping back and nodding. "It's time for something I've been saving for a rainy day."

"Something you haven't used already?" She asked, keeping her voice carefully curious rather than accusatory.

"It's not that much of an advantage, to be honest," he said, walking over to his bed. Reaching behind it, he pressed something, and the back of the closet began to descend, a hidden compartment behind it. "Especially not in an extended conflict. For something short and savage, though... they might come in handy."

Two racks stood in the dark chamber behind the closet's back, each occupied by something Alia had thought had been gone forever. Suits of armor, meant for a reploid, designed to fit over his standard set rather than replace it. Each was composed of six separate parts; torso, helmet, two gauntlets and two boots, just like all the rest that had come before. Though there were some design similarities, they were as different as night and day.

The first was streamlined and graceful, meant for speed and mobility, avian in design, indigo and white and gold with touches of red and green. The boots and gauntlets all had talonlike designs over them, while a beak adorned the chestplate, and the helmet boasted smaller wings matching the larger pair rising from its back.

The second armor set was massively heavy and bulky, pure brute force and nothing more. Its design was much more simplistic and undecorative, white and black with touches of gold here and there. The permanent buster over the right gauntlet was particularly indicative of its brutality, with a long stock hanging from it; the entire suit was a solid six inches of unknown alloys even at its thinnest points.

"The Falcon Armor and Gaia Armor," Alia said, staring at them. "We all thought they had been lost, long ago."

"Honestly, I was hoping I'd never have to use them again," X told her, running a hand over his helmet. "Especially after my Nova Armor finally broke down. That was why I stowed them here, when they started degrading as well." He sighed, walking back over to them. "They won't be good for long. Douglas kept them going for as long as he could, but even he has his limits. I give them half an hour each of actual combat use, at best."

"Then make that time count," she advised, walking over and embracing him. "And put them to good use one last time. It's appropriate, if nothing else."

"I thought so, too," he agreed quietly. "And I plan to. I just hope we're right, Alia. It might be petty, but they're all I truly have left of my father, after the sixth capsule was destroyed with Cossack's Citadel. I didn't want to lose them. Silly, isn't it?"

"It's not silly at all, X," she assured him. "I wish you'd been able to keep them, too."

"Thank you." Kissing her once, short and sweet, he pulled away far too soon, though she knew he was right to do so. "Sadly... it seems nothing is guaranteed any more, these days." He closed his eyes and clenched his fist, and the Falcon Armor disappeared in a flash of light to appear on him, fitting like a glove. "For any of us."

"Yo, X!" Wycost hollered from the other side of the door, banging on it. "You ready to go, or what, huh? We're waiting, out here!"

"Keep your shorts on, for all our sakes," he hollered back. "I'm coming." He started to walk over, then paused. "Alia... was I right? Signas had a point. I don't really have all that much to go on. Just a hunch, and faith, that this really _is _that important. Should I have put my feelings aside, and gone back to London to join my Unit?"

"Right and wrong are difficult things to define, X," she told him. "Now, of all times, more than ever. I can't tell you if you were right... but I _can _tell you that I'll follow your lead all the way, whatever it is you decide. This time, and the next time, and the next after that. As long as we're both still alive, I'll be with you. No matter what."

He paused at that, and then turned to kiss her again, much more fiercely than before. It was quick and sharp and sweet, and when he stopped, he took a moment more to stare into her eyes with a look that he'd only shown rarely in recent days, no matter the situation.

"Thank you, Alia," he told her. "I'm with you, too. No matter what. I'll always be with you. I promise." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but then he simply smiled, and turned away to open the door.

"Not the time, you two," Willow pointed out in her Irish brogue as they walked out, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," X grunted, looking around at the five reploids and eight Robot Masters gathered there. "Everybody ready, then?"

"More than," Allegro said, raising an eyebrow. "Nice duds."

"They won't last, but any advantage is a good one." X shrugged. "How're we going in? I'm not the only one who can fly here, I know, but we don't have enough for all of us, even if those of us who can all take a passenger."

"Douglas has a small hovercraft that's already started moving in that direction," Pharaoh Man explained. "One of his men warped down to the harbor and started it up as soon as we decided on our game plan. We'll land on the deck."

"That works for me." X nodded. "Watch our backs, Alia."

"Always," she promised softly as they all melted away into beams of light, a rainbow array of different colors, and flew away through the roof and the EM barrier around the MHHQ, off to the battle. Nodding sharply, she set off down the corridor, X's door closing behind her. Covering the distance back to the war room in record time, she returned to her desk and began pulling up all relevant sources of information, ignoring the sights and sounds of the battle of London on the main projector with practiced focus.

"28% damage to the city! Severe damage to the north, south and east walls!"

"Casualty analysis is still ongoing! We're in the four digits!"

"Zero's on the way!"

"They're still coming in! More Faithful _and _Mavericks!"

"Alia," Signas said quietly, not looking at her; he was staring straight forward at the main projector, calm and cold.

"Yes, Commander?" She replied, not turning her own gaze away from her work as she brought up half a dozen different angles on the front of the tunnel from satellite footage. They'd erected a massive barricade in the mouth of the tunnel where they'd made their entry, and several cannons had been installed around it, motionless at the moment. The flying drones buzzing around it were more active, but their patrol patterns were steady, not yet aware of the impending attack; all were models she recognized, dangerous but not deadly against opponents of this caliber.

"Don't be wrong," he told her. "Either of you."

"We won't be," she assured him shortly. "I believe in him." He didn't respond to that, and after a moment she began establishing an audio connection with the strike force, hooking all fourteen members along with Douglas' pilot into the same channel as her. "All right, everybody, it looks like the party's going to start before you even get in. The barricade has four Shock Cannons around it, and a dozen each of Firefry and Skullsider drones."

"_Not much to worry about,_" Wycost replied. "_How thick does that barricade look?_"

"From this side?" She frowned. "About a foot. I'll try and find anything going on in there so I can hack into it."

"_There'll be something,_" Ring Man told her; it took her a moment to put a name to his voice. "_But it'll be tricky to find. That's Wily for you_."

"I've detected and accessed his systems before," she told him. "With luck, I'll do it again." More satellite footage allowed her to locate the hovercraft, five miles away from the cliff and closing in fast. "It looks like you're almost there. The enemy will know you're there in a few more minutes."

"_We'll be ready for them,_" X replied. "_Bastion, I know you've got flight capabilities. Who else has picked them up over the years?_"

"_I can, if I engage my Giga Attack, but not for long,_" Pharaoh Man told him.

"_All right,_" X said. "_The three of us and Dive Man will go in first once we get close enough and take out those defenses before the hovercraft pulls up, and then we'll carry the rest of you up there a few at a time._"

"_That won't be necessary,_" Skull Man explained. "_I'll be able to __make__ us a path. It'll sting a little to walk on it, but we've all had worse._"

"They're picking you up!" Alia shouted as the hovercraft approached the cliff and the cannons began to move while the drones suddenly deviated from their patrol patterns, swooping down towards the incoming craft. "Here it comes!"

"_Everybody ready?_" X asked. "_Let's go!_" He and Bastion took off into the air on wings of steel, Pharaoh Man following close behind, hovering in an aura of blazing golden energy, as Dive Man launched himself overboard.

And then the fighting began, and she could only watch, and hope.

**June 5, 2186, 5:00 PM **

**London, England **

He'd heard how bad it was, but seeing it for himself was something else entirely.

"Fucking hell," Zero muttered, staring out over the ruined city; he'd landed on top of a skyscraper in the center of the city, giving him an excellent view of the devastation the bum rush of airships had wreaked on London. "This place is gone." Spitting, he raised a hand to his helmet. "Zero here. What's the game plan?"

"_Zero?_" A familiar voice-Arvis, X's number two-replied, sounding surprised. "_What're you doing here?_"

"Standing in," he explained. "X couldn't make it. This wasn't a coincidence. Wily launched this attack at the same time as something else, and X had to go head that off. I came in his place."

"_What?_" Another voice-Pitbull's-demanded. "_X ain't coming?_"

"It wasn't his call," Zero lied. "Some of that complicated bullshit. His past. It had to be him, otherwise I'd have gone there and he'd have come here."

"_Then there was no helping it,_" Prince agreed. "_It was out of his hands, and ours._"

"Pretty much," Zero told them, dashing and jumping off the roof towards the city below. "_Donia, talk to me._"

"_They'll be through the east wall in ten minutes, max,_" she warned him. "_I see four different spots that are about to break open._"

"Then that's where I'm going," he decided. "Where it's gonna get worst."

"_Well, that's what we're covering_," Arvis told him. "_So that works out fine. Take it we'll be going off of the same policy __for you __as with X?_"

"You tell me," he said as he fell. "I've been out of touch for a while, remember? What's the policy with X?"

"_Just stay out of his way_."

"Ha!" He snorted, landing on another rooftop and dash-jumping to the next, then the next, making his way towards the east side. "Never thought I'd hear anybody saying that about X. Yeah, that works for me. All right, let's do it that way. Anything else I should know?"

"_The enemy leader for the Faithful at the moment is Hellbat Schilt, while Bit commands the Mavericks,_" Prince told him.

"All right," Zero replied calmly. "I can take either of them. Bit, huh? Been a while, since the Third. Wonder if he's gotten any better since then."

"_You've fought him before, then?_" the reploid from Mecha asked curiously.

"A long time ago, yeah," he said, fighting the surge of memories that threatened to pour in; this wasn't the time for distractions of any sort. "Same time I met a guy by the name of Guernica. Wonder whatever happened to him."

"_We'll look it up over a couple __mug__s back at the Last Round, and you can tell the kid the story, after we're done here,_" Pitbull suggested; something in his voice was slightly off, but Zero wasn't sure what. "_If we all make it._"

"_Yeah, that's always the way,_" Arvis agreed.

"Pretty much," Zero said, as something caught his eye; Pitbull himself, running south at a steady pace. "Keep me posted, Donia." Dropping down, he landed next to the old human, who promptly whirled on him as he activated his beam axe, blazing orange. Fortunately, as soon as he saw who it was, he froze up, before pulling the weapon back with a disgusted look.

"Don't _do _that."

"My bad," Zero admitted; his own instincts were high-strung enough that he'd probably have done the same, a legacy of a lifetime in conflict. "All right, tell it to me straight. Exactly _how _bad a situation are we looking at here?"

Pitbull exercised his vocabulary at length.

"Specifics," he told him without missing a beat as the two of them started running again, side by side. "Generalities make my fists itch."

"We're fucked," Pitbull told him bluntly. "We'll take a lot of them with us, but they're gonna be throwing everything they have away just to crush us in record time. Considering the odds they got on us, not much even we can do about that."

"No, there wouldn't be," Zero muttered, scowling. "That's it, then?"

"Yeah." Pitbull nodded slowly. "That's it. You're an old soldier like I am. You know what happens when the dice roll snake eyes."

"Guess so," he admitted. "Gotta admit, though, it's kind of weird, seeing _you _like this. Back when Eurasia came down on my sorry ass, you were just getting out of high school. You and Simon King. And now you're both a couple of grumpy old men."

"Jealous?" The Captain of the 13th joked.

"Nah, I'll stick with my good looks, thanks all the same," he shot back before growing serious. "All right, what didn't you want to say over the comm?"

"Should have known you'd pick up on that," Pitbull grumbled. "Don't worry about it. I just wouldn't have expected this, from X. Thought better of him."

"I wasn't bullshitting you, Oscar," Zero told him gravely, falling back on the name he'd known Bloody Maria's brat by, back when they were both younger. "Wily hit us in both places at the same time deliberately. There was nothing he could do."

"Yeah, I know," Pitbull said in the same tone. "And that happens, sometimes. I get that. But the thing is, Zero... call it irrational all you want, explain it 'til the sun falls out of the sky, whatever. Doesn't change the fact that we've all been waitin' here for X to come back us up, and he didn't come. Sendin' you was good, and I appreciate it, trust me. But it don't change that fact. X didn't come. Maybe I am getting' too old for all this, if I can't let that go. Know I should. But I can't, and that's the way it is. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Zero replied quietly. "He'd say you were right. And maybe you _do _have a point. I don't know. All I know is, we gotta do whatever we can to win this war, and sometimes that means we don't have to like it."

"We just gotta do it, huh?" Pitbull sighed. "Yeah, I gotcha. Story of our goddamn lives, start to finish, right there."

"Pretty much," Zero agreed. Before either of them could say anything more, a massive explosion drew both their eyes to a spot on the eastern side of the south wall.

"_That did it!_" Donia told them both sharply. "_They're pouring in... and there's both kinds! Faithful _and _Mavericks!_"

"I'll start over there," Zero told him. "It's your turf, not mine, so I'll move over to the east side once it gets going there, but as long as it's starting here..."

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha." Pitbull nodded. "I'll get the next one. Go on, get moving, Crimson. Been more than thirty years since the last time I saw you in action. You better not have gotten soft on me in your old age."

"Right back atcha, geezer," Zero said as he dashed for a wall, scaling it quickly; they were reaching the point where their own barricades were starting to get in the way, which meant it was back to the rooftops. "If you don't reach the triple digits with your kill count, you're buying the beer back at Pugs' when we're done."

"Screw you, gramps," Pitbull growled. "Hey, Zero. Don't die."

"You too," Zero told him, looking back over his shoulder for a moment, and then they both nodded, and he took off. It wasn't long before he reached the engagement zone, where the overwhelming flood of enemies was pouring over the city like a flood. Unlike what he'd seen of the north and east sides from where he'd arrived, the defenses set up by the 13th were token at best, meant more to force the enemy to stand and fight in the streets than to actually hold them back.

"Guess some things never change," he muttered under his breath as he charged onward; what seemed like a gross error in their defensive layout was really just the 13th being self-aware enough to play to their own strengths, and he could appreciate that. All the same, it came with its own downsides; as he passed by, he saw one grizzled veteran in charcoal armor being swarmed under, torn apart by sheer numbers. Narrowing his eyes, he leapt from the rooftop and landed just behind that mob, between them and an even larger mass.

Before any of the Mavericks could so much as shout, his free hand was already moving, pulling a Rakuhouha capsule and slamming it into the ground. Twice. The first massive explosion of energy sent them all flying, and the second that followed it blew them out of the sky. Most of them were wasted; selecting the largest group of survivors, he unleashed the Sonic Boom he'd taken from Agile's carcass as they flew through the air, slicing them to shreds.

Leaving the remaining wounded for the 13th to find and finish, he charged onward towards the hole in the wall. Turning a corner, he saw another mass of Mavericks and hurled himself into their midst, spinning and slicing in a whirling vertical cut, three hundred and sixty degrees. Upon landing, he followed it up with a similar horizontal slash, using his dash boots to boost his speed. Shots came his way, but he saw an opening in the field of fire and went for it before it could be filled, bearing down on a particularly large enemy.

Ramming his beam saber up through the Maverick's chin and into his skull, he kept going, dash-jumping up and off of his carcass to grab the next one there by the throat with his free hand. Breaking his neck savagely, he continued charging, slamming him bodily into his own allies as a not-quite-living shield. Finishing his dash by throwing the carcass upwards, he dropped low to the ground and kept moving forward, and by the time their eyes tracked him instead of the dead Maverick, he was already in their midst.

Four heads flew in less than a second, but his flawless streak ended there; a magrifle round took him in the shoulder, and he stumbled, wincing. A foolhardy Maverick, seeing this, charged him with a savage scream, raising his own bright purple beam saber overhead in a massive slash. Ignoring the idiot's blade, Zero sheathed his own saber momentarily, freeing up both his hands. With one, he rammed a third Rakuhouha down the Maverick's throat, and with the other, he grabbed him by the elbow and threw him into the approaching mob.

"What _is _he?" One of the hapless slaughter fodder screamed as the explosion went off, ravaging them-and spraying them with pieces of the unlucky target-en masse.

"Does it matter?" Zero replied shortly, charging and shredding him with a succession of well-aimed slashes before moving on to the next.

"Oh, I'd say it does," a familiar voice called out mockingly, and Zero's instincts screamed at him. Rather than taking the time to look, he dashed to the side instantly; as a result, the fireball aimed at his back only clipped him. Swearing under his breath, he turned and glared at the short, humanoid reploid standing dramatically on a nearby rooftop, gold and silver armor gleaming in the sunlight and bright red helmet tassel blowing in the wind.

"He's the Crimson Hunter, is what he is," Bit informed his forces. "And quite possibly the son of God, at least according to our new allies."

"You buying into that crap, Bit?" Zero snarked, keeping one eye on the enemy leader while another watched the army around them; they'd gone still for the moment, but he knew better than to assume that that was a guarantee. "Funny. You didn't seem the type."

"Not at all, actually," the Maverick told him. "But it's polite to at least acknowledge their beliefs, even if I don't agree with them." He smiled then, as Zero's instincts went off for the second time in under a minute. "Wouldn't you say, brother?"

"Sonsabitches!" The Crimson Hunter snarled, dashing forward towards the nearest wall even as he saw a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye, emerging from the mass of Mavericks behind him. Reaching it, he leaped, hit the wall, and backflipped, over the head of the brute behind him.

"Indeed, brother," the massive, red-and-grey Byte agreed, managing to hit Zero with one fist in passing, strong enough to send him skidding down the street on landing. "And I've always believed in being polite."

"Should have known the deck would be stacked like this," he growled, climbing back to his feet. "You're not pulling any punches anywhere else here. My own fault, really."

"How gracious of you," Bit murmured. "All of you, go around! Avoid this street for a while. We'll keep our bloody red friend busy."

"Yes, sir!" The Mavericks shouted, some of them looking more than slightly relieved.

"Yeah?" Zero narrowed his eyes; as much as he wanted to cut them off, turning his back on _these _two would have been suicide, even for him. "And how are you gonna do that? Going to try that little fusion dance thing X told me about? Always wanted to see how I'd be able to do against that one after he did."

"A mistake," Byte admitted gravely. "One we have learned from. There are other, more effective ways to combine our strength, as you shall see!" Lowering his head, he charged, souped-up dash boots propelling him towards Zero at a speed that was particularly impressive considering his bulk; from what X had told him, that had always been his greatest strength.

Facing him down, Zero moved to unleash a Sonic Boom, but even as his sword came up, he realized his mistake. Bit was moving as well, charging down off the rooftop with just as much speed, and he had drawn his own beam saber, a bright red one aimed at the small of Zero's back in a horizontal cut. Byte was already aborting his own attack, crossing his arms in a defensive block over his head; the sonic boom sliced into both, but wasn't quite sufficient to sever through his massive armor.

Twisting backwards in mid-air, Zero was able to avoid being sliced in half, but Bit's sword still cut painfully into his back. Snarling, he slashed at the enemy behind him without even needing to look, and was pleased to feel it hit something, though it didn't seem deep enough to be fatal. Sure enough, when he landed, Bit was only wounded in the shoulder, half of one pauldron falling away. Glaring, the golden Maverick stood his ground, and they exchanged a flurry of blows for several moments before another rush from Byte forced Zero to jump away, timed so that he would slam into his brother.

Unfortunately, that didn't quite work; they both stopped just in time, before whirling and throwing out a projectile each. Byte's was one of his only weapons aside from his own body, which X had described as "magnet mines," explosives that would also pull anything metal towards them with a powerful electromagnetic field, including reploids. Bit's was no less irritating, a purple ring of energy that would slide around him if it hit, binding his arms to his sides for several moments and leaving him helpless.

Cutting the mine out of the air, Zero dodged the ring even as both brothers charged side by side, fists and saber at the ready. And then Byte's hands blazed to life, white plasma coating them, as Bit leaped into the air and shot forward, dash boots firing off a second time. Eyes widening, Zero dashed backwards and rebounded off a wall without turning, soaring into the sky above Byte's head and into Bit. Their blades clashed, and Zero's superior strength forced the smaller Maverick downward, to bounce painfully off the street.

Another magnet mine took him in the chest, and the detonation slammed him into a wall with a grunt of pain even as Bit climbed back to his feet and Byte turned to glare at him, both brothers battered but far from beaten.

"You've gotten better," he acknowledged grimly, hitting the side of his head with the palm of his free hand. "Both of you."

"Better than you," Bit boasted. "Together, if not separately. Say your prayers, Zero."

"Nah, I don't think so." He shook his head. "See, there's something you forgot."

"And that is?" Byte asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I _enjoy _a challenge," he reminded them, and grinned savagely as he rushed them once more.

**June 5, 2186, 8:00 AM **

**Tunnel beneath Japan **

He slept, and as he did, he dreamed, as all of his kind did. From what he knew, very few Robot Masters had ever known what it was like to dream, but those who had followed them on the ladder of mechanical evolution experienced the phenomenon every time they went into stasis. It was something he'd always found fascinating, the way the unconscious mind mixed and matched past experiences and present concerns into a confusing blend of truth and lies, one of his few interests that lacked any sort of practicality.

Whatever his dreams had been about left his mind as he was rudely awakened, a hand on his shoulder and a voice shouting his name. Grimacing, he stirred and raised his head, peering about in the glow of the lights they'd installed in the ceiling of their tunnel, a necessary use of time in order to facilitate progress.

"Lord Cactank, sir!" The Faithful who'd dared to disturb his slumber repeated. "Please wake up! We have-" Whatever it was he had, he never got the chance to say, as the one who he'd awakened reached up and almost negligently crushed his skull. Twitching, he fell to the dirt beneath them, and the Disciple rested a hand on his carcass, using it to push himself to his feet.

"Well, well, well!" Glacier Le Cactank, one of God's disciples, boomed as he glanced around him, mustache twitching. "Would somebody else like to tell me what prompted this one to defy my orders, then? I specifically instructed the lot of you _not _to wake me until we had found our buried treasure, and yet, here we are. Have we made faster progress than we thought? Perhaps I should be commending you, instead!"

"No, sir." Another Faithful saluted, without so much as growing pale; they all knew the price of defiance, and had accepted it as part of their lives from the moment they were activated. The Faithful existed only to carry out the will of the Disciples, just as they in turn did for that of God himself, and Lord Omega... before he had been corrupted once more, at any rate. "We're close, but we still haven't broken through yet."

"Then why was I awakened?" Cactank demanded. "I wished to be well-rested for the moment of our triumph, and now, I will not be. I trust that there _is _some reason for that?" He left the implication of what would happen unsaid; he'd found over the years that that was even better than going into detailed specifics.

"Yes, Lord Cactank," the speaker continued loudly, his raised voice necessary considering the racket. In retrospect, Cactank found himself amazed that he'd been able to sleep through it at all. Though the tunnel drones were hundreds of feet further down the tunnel, the noise they made as they continued burrowing deep into the earth beneath the country that had become their greatest obstacle in their service of God's will was still cacophonous, echoing through the cavern from one end to the other and back again.

Though the drones did the digging, the Faithful themselves were no less active. With the help of other mechanoids, they constantly labored to ensure that the crude tunnel would not collapse upon their heads before they reached their goal, shoring it up with supports and girders and activating lights to illuminate their path. It was graceless and ugly, functional and nothing more, lacking the sense of style and design that Glacier le Cactank normally preferred, but the task at hand demanded it. And above all, he _always _carried out his tasks as God desired.

"They've found us, sir," the Faithful explained. "Maverick Hunters, and possibly Mecha, as well. A hovercraft is currently inbound."

"A hovercraft, you say?" Cactank asked, stroking his mustache. "Only one? A large one, I take it? A dreadnought, fully armed, with Hunters packed into it like sardines for deployment once they arrive?"

"No, sir," the Faithful said, shaking his head. "A small craft, and moving very fast. There can't be more than a couple dozen on board."

"How very curious," Cactank murmured. "Yes, very curious indeed. Are the Hunters underestimating us, perhaps? Foolishness, if so, and yet I think... not. Some trick, or trap, then? No, I doubt that as well. Tell me, have we identified who exactly it is onboard that vessel, then? That, I suspect, will be the key to this enigma."

"No, sir." The Faithful shook his head. "Whoever they are, we haven't been able to see yet. They're staying below."

"Of course, of course." Cactank nodded. "Mega Man X."

"Sir?" The Faithful blinked.

"X himself is aboard that ship," Cactank said firmly, glancing down the tunnel towards the far end, where they'd made their entrance. A barricade blocked it off, one of dozens they'd erected, one every mile as they'd made their way towards where God had told them their prize would be found. "Him, and a small, but skilled, strike force."

"But sir, I thought that he was in London!" Another Faithful looked over his shoulder as the rest began to mutter amongst themselves. "The 17th are all there! That's why we launched that attack, so that he and they wouldn't be able to..." He trailed off, realizing what he had done, as Cactank fixed him with his gaze.

"Do you doubt my words, Carlotto?" He asked, voice deceptively mild.

"Never, Lord Cactank!" The now-panicked Faithful promised. "I spoke without thought. It will not happen again."

"See to it that it does not," the Disciple told him. "I will be merciful, for I acknowledge the truth of your explanation. Once." He turned back to the spokesman, whose eyes had gone wide. "The 17th remain in London?"

"They do, sir," the Faithful agreed. "But nobody's seen X there today, from what they've reported so far."

"I see," Cactank said slowly, as a smile crept across his features. "Well, now. Well, now _indeed_. It seems that the paragon of the Hunters is not so principled as he seems after all. He's left them there, and come _here_, instead. Is it that his shining nobility is a facade, perhaps? Nothing but an image, with bleak pragmatism underneath? Or is it that he knows what we are after, and considers it of such importance that he throws his principles away, to come and spoil our fun?" He shook his head. "Not that it matters, I suppose."

"Lord Cactank?" Another Faithful asked. "What should we do?"

"Fifty of you, remain here," he instructed them. "Spread out as we continue, and await their arrival in groups of ten between each barricade. See to your own deployment, and delay them as long as possible. Your lives are forfeit, as of this moment. Spend them in the service of God, and the furtherance of his will, as you have been commanded to do since the moment of your activation. Keep them from reaching this place until we have achieved our objective, and God will be well pleased with you, one and all."

"My lord." The speaker bowed. "As you command." He turned away then, and began barking orders at other Faithful, as Cactank glanced towards the digging drones. Walking over, he spoke to the one who'd blurted his doubts earlier.

"How much longer?"

"Our current estimate is an hour, sir," Carlotto replied.

"You have forty-five minutes," Cactank told him coldly. "Once that time has passed, one of you will perish for every minute in which we do not reach our goal. You will be the first."

"As you wish, my lord," the Faithful acknowledged without hesitation. A Maverick would not have done so, at least not until the Child of God had enforced her will over that of her slave, to say nothing of how a reploid, human or Robot Master would have responded to such an ultimatum. But the Faithful had been raised to believe that their master was God, one and all, and nothing was beyond their devotion, and their fear.

Cactank himself was no different; in fact, his belief in God was all the more powerful, for he knew God's mind far more than the rank and file. He and his fellow Disciples were those closest to God, those who had been chosen to stand above all others in his service from long before the moment of their creation, and who had been gifted with not one but _two _bodies so that they might better carry out his will. Idly, he considered transforming to his true form, but decided against it; time for that later, _if _it was necessary.

"Does anybody else hear that?" One of the other Faithful asked suddenly, breaking Cactank's contemplation.

"Hear what?" Carlotto snapped.

"Something up ahead," the other told him. "Sounds like some sort of pounding."

"Pounding?" Carlotto growled. "Ridiculous." Walking over, he shooed the digging drones away and laid an ear against the dirt. "Let me see here..." He frowned. "No... you're right. There _is _something. Lord Cactank, should we-"

Before he could finish, the dirt around him exploded outward, and something within seized his head, dragging him through. It happened in the blink of an eye, and then he was gone, his heels disappearing into the new hole.

"What the hell?" Another one blurted, only for it to happen again. This time, Cactank was able to see just what it was; a gigantic steel clamp, hexagonal and crude, crushed his skull and pulled his writhing corpse into the dirt.

"Back, all of you!" The Disciple ordered, and they complied eagerly, scrambling away; the digging drones obeyed as well, programmed to obey his commands regardless of other programming. "Mortars! Let's get a good look at whatever this is!" A few combat drones obliged, firing at the spot where the two holes had opened, and a section of the wall exploded, shaking the tunnel around them dangerously. Fortunately, though a great deal of dirt fell from above, there wasn't enough to collapse it around them, and their attacker now stood exposed amidst the billowing dust.

It was humanoid, but neither reploid, nor Robot Master. Ten feet tall, its green torso round, its design was simplistic, huge and thickly armored. Its massive arms ended in sockets from which twin pincers emerged, turning clockwise. Twin red lights set in its chest, coupled with a ridged steel belt, gave its torso the ludicrous image of a smiling face. Its actual head was nothing but a dome with no neck, a single red eye glaring out at them.

"Interesting!" Cactank roared, drawing his titanitefloalloy mace and whirling it, spiked ball and chain spinning with enough force to crush in a reploid's skull with one blow. "Come, then! I accept your challenge!"

"Attackers identified," the robot replied mechanically, eye fixing on him. "Unit RT-55I engaging." Drawing back one arm, it threw out the pincer, extending on a long chain. Jumping it, Cactank continued forward, and did the same when it attacked again in the exact same fashion. This time, he brought his mace down into its head. To his surprise, it was only slightly dented, and he was forced to hit it again, and again, while continuing to dodge its clumsy attacks. In the end, it took ten hits before the light of its eye finally went out and it collapsed.

"Lord Cactank?" One of the Faithful asked, staring. "What _was _that?"

"A Sentinel," he explained, scowling down at it. "The body of a Robot Master, but with the mind of an automation. Strong, but stupid. Its head is its weak point; you'll be able to damage everything else save for the claws, but the armor's so thick it'll take you all day. Don't try and stand your ground. Keep them moving. Their attacks are easy to avoid, and they leave them wide open. Use intelligence and mobility, rather than brute force, and they will fall."

"They, sir?" Another asked. "Are there more?"

"There will be," he predicted grimly. "Back to work, you slugs! Double time! If they catch up to us before we're done here, it won't be pretty, for anybody! Go!"

**June 5, 2186, 5:15 PM **

**London, England **

"_That was the south wall! They just put another hole in it, near the other end! Here they come, people!_"

"Go, go, go!" Pitbull roared at the terrified civilians he'd just saved, even as he pulled his axe from the skull of their would-be killer. The dead Faithful fell off, and he turned away as the humans and reploids ran to the west, towards the evacuation area. He'd already run out of PTUs, which meant all he could do for them was point them in the right direction and hope they'd make it to the stockpile. At the moment, he gave them good odds, but that would deteriorate with every passing minute, as more and more enemies poured in.

He'd been at New Delhi when it had fallen, along with the rest of the 13th, and the memories of that dreadful massacre would remain with him for the rest of his life. He'd seen his share of horrors over the decades he'd spent fighting the Mavericks, but even so, the sight of civilians dying by the hundredfold over a period of two days once they'd made the first hole in the wall and began the slaughter had been one of the worst, topped only by a particularly sick Maverick they'd tracked down to what he'd called his "laboratory" in the mountains of Romania when he'd been thirty.

Throwing away the thoughts of that grisly find, he looked around; there were no enemies in sight at the moment, though that obviously wouldn't last for long. All the same, it gave him time to catch his breath, which he sorely needed. Panting heavily, he leaned against a wall and grimaced as daggers of pain shot up the length of his spine. Most of the fights he'd been in as a Hunter had been short and sour, over in under half an hour, something that had become increasingly relevant as he'd increased in age, but that was obviously out of the question this time.

"_Horace, Zed!_" Their obituaries continued to ring in his ear. "_Shrike's up ahead of you, and they're mobbing her! Hurry, before-shit!_"

"Idiot," he accused himself under his breath as he leaned against a partially destroyed house. "Playing the 'I'll retire _after _this is over' card? You asked for this. Should have been honest with 'em." Spitting on the ground, he shook himself like a wet dog and stood again; the pain had only receded slightly, but that was enough for him to be able to bear it. "Ah, well. Wouldn't have suited me anyways. Going out in style, that's the ticket." Tightening his grip on his beam axe, he charged off again, towards the sounds of destruction and death.

There were many reasons humans were inferior to reploids in combat, and the fact that they died much easier-and always permanently-was only one of them. Many of the Hunters' standard equipment was unusable by them; they could wear the armor, as long as they kept themselves in shape, and by his time some clever genius had created dash boots that they could use as well, but heart tanks and sub tanks were out of the question for those whose lives depended on beating hearts and rushing blood rather than microfusion generators and internal operations energy.

There was only one way for those few humans who resolutely signed on all the same to break even; stubbornness, skill, and dogged determination. One mistake was often fatal, and everybody made them sometimes; only those who could both minimize their errors and survive the consequences lasted long in Mutt Unit, and Pitbull was the oldest and best of the current generation, a veteran of hundreds of conflicts. If today was the day he'd die, then that was fair enough, but there was no way in hell he'd go without using up everything he had in fulfillment of his duty.

"How're we doing, Shino?" He asked as he ran, taking advantage of the pause in the running description of their deaths.

"_Zero's engaged Bit, and Byte as well!_" The 13th's current Navigator, one of the few males in that particular department, told him; he'd never really figured out why almost all of them were female, with the exceptions of Shino and a few others, and it looked like he wasn't going to, now. "_They _both _showed up! __It's looking __pretty __bad, Pitbull. We just lost Shrike, too. Got her head blown off by a buster. Up ahead, around that corner! Mavericks, twenty of them!_"

"At least it was quick, then," he muttered, eyes narrowing with fury despite his calm tone. "Roger that."

"Hunter at six o' clock!" An insectoid Maverick screamed to his comrades in a shrill voice as Pitbull rounded the corner, finding another horror awaiting him; they'd been entertaining themselves butchering civilians, by the looks of it, and only a few remained. "And look, boys! It's a human! Nice and juicy!"

"Nah, that one's an old man!" Another shouted, looking away from the human he was holding off the ground by the throat. "He'll be too dried up to bleed much!"

"Drop the civvie and find out, Maverick," Pitbull shouted back. "If you've still got the balls you were built with!"

"Sure!" The Maverick sneered, before slamming the human to the ground with bone-breaking force. "There! Now for you!" A hulking humanoid model, he fired off a charged shot with his buster before charging, hands grasping eagerly at the air.

Standing his ground, Pitbull split the shot with his axe, sending the two halves skittering off in opposite directions before reversing the weapon and slamming the Maverick between the eyes with its butt. Stunned, the enemy stumbled, and before he could recover, Pitbull was already swinging. His head flew in a spray of synthblood, and Pitbull held out a hand, catching it easily as it fell next to him. Tossing it up and down, he smirked at the rest without saying a word.

"_No, not that way!_" Shino continued to shout, though Pitbull only heard one message in ten, and that only peripherally. "_They're waiting for you! It's a... no!_"

"The old man's got spunk!" The first one screeched as they charged in a mob. "Not bad! Let's reward him, boys! Give him what he wants!" They swarmed over him, but he was already moving forward into their midst, spinning the axe around him in a circle to deflect plasma fire. Only one of them had a magpistol; glancing at that one, Pitbull threw the severed head at him, distracting him long enough to choose another, one that looked particularly slow.

Shifting his axe to one hand, he ducked under his claws and punched him in the gut. As the Maverick bent over, gasping, he twisted behind him and raised the pole of his axe horizontally, pulling it back against the enemy's throat with both hands. Raising him in the air before him as a shield, he used him to catch several shots from the magpistol even as he took careful note of the stationary Maverick's position.

Throwing the dying Maverick at his comrades to keep them off of him for a few crucial seconds, he opened up a secret compartment in his armor and pulled out a magpistol of his own, his trump card. One shot was enough; the Maverick, too stupid to dodge, was hit in the control chip, an instant kill. He fell forward, and Pitbull put the gun away, turning back to the close-quarters fight as the Mavericks who hadn't been hit by the carcass swarmed him.

"No fucking way!" One of them yelled as his axe began to dance. Hacking and slashing, teeth gritted, he drove them back with sheer ferocity, limbs and heads flying all around him. If they swarmed him under, that would be all she wrote, but he wasn't going to give them the opportunity, ripping into them in a berserker fury that had kept him alive for his entire career. "How the hell did he make that shot? Who _is _this geezer?"

"Oscar Hayes, Captain of the 13th," he replied, almost politely, as he chopped that one in half at the waist. "Call me Pitbull." Ducking under a raptor-model's snapping jaws, he grabbed it in a choke-hold with one hand as he slammed the butt of his axe into another Maverick's eye and into his skull. Snapping the first one's neck, he slammed them both into more of their comrades, and before they could recover, he finished the last of them.

"_You're clear, for the moment,_" Shino told him. "_Don't stand around for long, though. There's more of them two streets to the north._"

"Yeah, yeah," he replied wearily. "You folks okay?"

"You... saved us!" One of the few human survivors gasped.

"I tried," he replied bleakly, looking at the one the humanoid had thrown. One glance was all it took to tell him it had been fatal, and he turned his gaze to the rest. "Head west. They're evacuating folks off that way, a little off of the center of the city. Stay there as much as you can; they're pouring in from both north and south. You see anybody wearing a Hunter badge, or a Robot Master, they're on our side. Anybody else, stay out of sight. Good luck."

"Thank you," an old woman whispered, before they turned and started to run. Pitbull watched them go for a moment, then sighed and turned away; there were still more enemies to find and kill, and the battle was continuing on.

"_No!_" Shino screamed. "_I missed them! Above!_"

Less than a second later, he heard an explosion, and whipped his head back around just in time to see the refugees vanish in a massive fireball.

"I do apologize, but we're here on a mission," a cultured voice informed him smugly from above him, and he looked up to see two white-and-gold-clad Faithful standing on a rooftop, both of them wearing the capes that identified them as Wily's Disciples. Neither was built particularly impressively; one was dark and handsome, the other obviously blind, his helmet covering his eyes. Both smiled coldly as the former continued to speak. "And I'm afraid you were interfering with it. It's nothing personal, you understand."

"Like I give a shit about personal?" Bulldog roared back furiously.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't, would you?" The Disciple agreed, eyes glittering. "Did you hear, Biblio? A Unit Captain. How very impressive."

"Especially considering his age, Schilt," the other one murmured, snickering. "And a human, as well. _I'm _impressed."

"_Sorry, Pitbull,_" Shino apologized, subdued. "_They were inside that building. I didn't see them until they came out._"

"S'awright, kid," he replied under his breath. "Looks like this is as far as I go. Tell 'em it's been fun for me, and remind those stooges of what I told them. See you next time." Turning the channel off, he glared up at the Disciples. "You gonna jaw all day? Or are you gonna get your asses down and do what we all came here to do?"

"How rude," Hellbat Schilt said mildly, not even bothering to feign actual offense. "And also crude. And yet, you _are _a respectable opponent; that much has been made abundantly clear. I really should deal with you personally before you reduce our numbers any further, no matter how meaningless it will be in the end."

"Try it," Pitbull replied simply, as their eyes met.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Biblio told them. "I believe I'll go see if I can find Mister Prince, since he seems to be the only opponent left here who's worth my time. Failing that, I suppose there's always slaughtering toy soldiers by the hundredfold. To be honest, I don't really care, either way. Farewell, Captain Hayes." Bowing mockingly, he stepped backwards, dropping off the roof behind the building. And then Schilt was leaping off of the roof towards him, drawing a long length of steel cable attached to a hilt that crackled with electricity, tipped with a spike.

"Since you were kind enough to introduce yourself, I suppose I should do the same!" He shouted as the electric whip snapped out. "My name is Hellbat Schilt, the Sky Disciple! Come, let me show you the way to oblivion!"

Ignoring his words, Pitbull slashed at the whip with his axe, but the Disciple jerked it to the side, and he missed. Before he could recover, the enemy's weapon caught his hand, and he spasmed in pain as electricity coursed through his body. Laughing, Schilt pulled him closer, apparently uncaring of the fact that his whip was tying Pitbull's axe to his hand. Fighting through the pain, he brought it around again, only for Schilt to jump over the swing and land before him.

Before he could attack again, the Disciple's other hand shot out, fingers tipped with steel spikes, and slammed through Pitbull's armor into his stomach.

"Come now, is that all you've got?" Schilt asked mildly as he doubled over, hacking up blood. "How utterly disappointing. _Do _try not to ruin my boots, if you don't mind. I expected more of a fight, at least."

"Wish granted," Pitbull managed to grunt out as he delivered a practiced headbutt. Despite the fact that his was made of bone and meat as opposed to the opponent's metal skeleton, Schilt reeled, stunned. Ignoring the screaming pain and the spinning stars, he decked the Disciple with his left fist, less powerful than his right yet still formidable. The claws in his gut were fatal, he could tell, but he wasn't going down easily. Again and again he punched, until Schilt dropped his whip in order to catch the fist, clawed fingers gripping it tight and squeezing blood as if from a fruit.

Fighting through the pain, he took advantage of his now-free axe hand and hacked the Disciple's left arm off at the elbow, before stumbling to one knee with it still impaling him through the stomach. Screaming in pain, Schilt stumbled away, but then he regained control of himself, diving for his whip. Before he could get his hand on the hilt, however, Pitbull pulled it away, the now-inert length of cable still wrapped around his axe hand.

"Come on, pretty boy," he bluffed-mostly-with a grin as he forced himself back to his feet, even as he hacked up more blood. "Let's see how good you are without this little toy."

"How dare you," Schilt snarled. "I'll show you... no." He smiled then, a buster sliding down his remaining arm and over his hand. "I almost forgot I learned _this _trick from one of your allies." At the last moment before he fired, his arm aimed downwards, between them. What emerged was not plasma, but _noise_, an invisible ripple of force in the air that made his ears scream. Surprised, he stumbled, and the wave of sound rebounded off the ground and slammed into him, aggravating his injuries tenfold. Spasming and shaking, losing even more blood, he fell back.

Smirking, Schilt retracted the buster, bent down and calmly retrieved the hilt of his whip. Another snap pulled the axe from Pitbull's grasp and sent it flying away into the sky. He reached for his magpistol, but before he could get a shot off, the whip wrapped around him, binding his arms to his side and filling his body with electric pain.

"I suppose I deserved that," Schilt admitted, breathing heavily as he approached. "The penalty for underestimating you, I suppose. Rest assured, I won't make the same mistakes twice."

In response, Pitbull twitched his wrist enough that he could throw the magpistol into his face, even with his arms bound.

"You have a brave heart," Schilt complimented him, before his remaining hand tore into Pitbull's chest, and the pain reached its peak before suddenly stopping. In that instant, he saw the flash of a blade, and felt nothing more. He could only watch as his own body fell back, Schilt's hand emerging from a bloody crater of broken ribs, clutching his prize, the organ still twitching and spurting. "And now, so do I." Opening his chest compartment, he tucked it inside in a grotesque parody of a heart tank before saluting Pitbull's carcass. "As Biblio said, farewell, Captain Hayes."

"_I don't really do humans too often,_" a voice said quietly, as a new Robot Master walked around from behind him, one of a type he'd never seen before. He was top-heavy, with a red-and-black paintjob, one arm ending in a permanent buster, the other in a bulky mitt that twirled a comically tiny sickle. Something in his back rose in two places, but whatever it was wasn't visible, under the hooded gray cloak he wore. His features were simple, skin over a skull and nothing more, but his eyes were a surprising blue. "_But you and your boys and girls are exceptions, by association._"

"Son of a fuck," Pitbull murmured, staring, as the world around him faded away completely into misty gray nothingness; he recognized him from his time with Mecha's men. "The kid was right. You _are _real."

"_That I am, Captain Hayes,_" Doc Man, Son of Wily, the Reaper of Mecha's pantheon, admitted blandly. "_The rest of your __fallen__ are over here. We'll take you on up once we're finished with this... and then, I think, maybe we'll want to talk a bit, you and I._"

**June 5, 2186, 9:00 AM **

**Tunnel beneath Japan **

"_Falcon Armor flight capabilities disengaged. Armor at critical fai-_"

"Shit," X muttered under his breath as the Falcon Armor melted away into light, disappearing for the last time. Tumbling to the dirt of the tunnel floor, he watched as the next barricade exploded before him, Pharaoh Man's last attack having done the trick moments before. "Knew it wouldn't be long. Hell of a lot more than I thought, even." Shaking his head, he rose back to his feet.

"I was wondering, when I saw you wearing that getup," Bastion commented, blasting ahead. "You know, Hazil and Horn could probably put together a set of wings like mine, if you wanted."

"I appreciate the thought," X told him as they charged ahead; they'd been running for miles already over the last hour, beneath the earth, not even stopping to fight. Drones in the tunnel began attacking, as they had before, but in the narrow quarters, the sheer amount of firepower their team sent blasting back swallowed up their fire like a flood. "But it wouldn't be the same."

"We getcha," Willow assured him, shaking her head as she watched the assault melt before them. "Nothing but drones. They savin' all their actual men for the end, or what?"

"Look out!" Bristol warned her, pulling her to the side as sharp retort rang through the air, and something shot past where her head had been a moment before. "There's some!"

"Heretics!" A harsh voice shouted as ten Faithful walked forward, firing. "Blasphemers! You will perish before-what?" A wall of blue light had sprang up between the two groups, one which took the form of shifting skulls in constant motion.

"I'll drop it in three," Skull Man said loudly. "Three!" The force field disappeared, and before the surprised Faithful could recover, X and the Scion's Zenith returned fire with their own combined assault, obliterating the Faithful as easily as their drones.

"We should probably just start doing that every half a minute or so," Bristol suggested. "Better safe than sorry, eh? Especially if they're packing magrifles."

"No need," Pharaoh Man told her. "Drill, scout ahead."

"You got it, boss!" Saluting, Drill Man backflipped and landed head down, drills atop his crown and hands spinning fiercely. In seconds, he was gone, leaving only churned earth in his wake to show that he'd been there at all.

"I always forget just how good you guys are, as a single unit," Allegro muttered idly as the rest of them continued. "When we line you up side by side, there aren't many situations that one of you _can't _deal with, are there?"

"If there are, we haven't seen them," Pharaoh Man said proudly as they approached the next barricade, adding his Pharaoh Wave to the combined attack the team unleashed. The guns built into it didn't even have a chance to target any of them before the wall melted before the overwhelming power. "We were already good before Drill, Dive and Skull joined us. Now, we're better."

"Almost seems like overkill, so far," Wycost grunted. "Not even a challenge."

"That'll change once we actually catch up to them," X reminded him. "That's when the real fun is going to start."

"_Up ahead!_" Drill Man's voice came over the channel. "_Five more!_"

"Roger," Pharaoh Man muttered under his breath. "Hit them from behind, and we'll finish them off. Skull?"

"Two hundred feet," Skull Man told him, narrowing his eyes. "A hundred fifty. A hundred. There goes Drill!"

"Nightvision upgrades?" X guessed as they attacked again. "Not surprising, I guess."

"_Got 'em,_" Drill Man told them. "_Just drones until the next barricade. I'll go see what's on the other side of it._"

"Is that why you're not using your other armor set just yet?" Bristol asked him, returning to the previous topic of conversation. "Because this is just the warm-up?"

"Yeah," X agreed. "I'm saving it for the real action. You're doing the same with your remaining Giga Attack power, right, Phare?"

"You guessed it," the Robot Master told him as they demolished the next wall. "There's not much left, but I'm saving what I have for the endgame. Warmup is the right word. We'll know when the party's really going to start when we find Cactank."

"_More, up ahead, same distance!_" Drill reported. "_Looks like they're all deployed halfway between each barricade._"

"Typical Faithful lack of imagination." Willow snorted. "Don't any o' the bastards know what an original thought looks like?"

"If they do, they probably keep it well hidden," Bright Man told her, his usually chipper voice grim and cold. "Wily strongly discourages original thoughts andactive imaginations. He always did. I wouldn't be surprised at all to find out that he's gotten even worse now that he's started on this whole religious thing."

"I still say that's the stupidest thing I've even heard," the lumbering Dive Man growled as he plodded along behind them; he'd been highly useful for the entrance, but ever since he'd brought up the rear, painfully out of his element yet keeping up all the same. "And I heard a lot of stupid things during the years when we pretended the citadel was nothing more than a tourist trap." He added a few missiles to the next attack, and another wall went down.

"Man, I don't even know how you dealt," Allegro cracked. "I'd have lost it after a week working that kind of gig."

"Why do you think the three of us _stayed _stupid for so long, while the other guys were making the leap?" Skull Man chuckled. "Sometimes, having a primitive mind is an _advantage_. Makes being bored less of a problem."

"Good news," Willow told him drily as they destroyed another force of Faithful. "Right now, I'd say bein' bored's the least o' your worries."

"Oh, joy."

"Alia, how much further do we have to go?" X asked her.

"_A__bout__ four __and a half __more mile__s, according to our scans__,_" she replied. "_That's where they are currently, and they haven't moved in some time. I don't like that, but I haven't found anything that I can hack into yet, so I can't tell you the reason. It looks like Wily's figuring out how to counteract Navigators whenever possible; everything they brought is self-sustaining, without any connections to anything else. I'm sorry, X._"

"Don't be," he told her. "That tells us all we need to know. Thanks."

"Four more barricades, then?" Bastion guessed as they brought down the next one.

"Or three," X replied, adding a charged shot to the attack. "If the main force has stopped moving, but haven't taken off yet, I'm hoping that that means they've been running into trouble. They might not have had time to set one last one up behind them."

"Not that it'll make much difference if they did," Allegro said with a shrug, doing the same as they obliterated the fourth group of Faithful. "It'll save us what, about five seconds?"

"You never know," X reminded him. "That five seconds might just end up making the difference, this time. They don't need to kill us to win. All they need to do is reach the finish line before we catch up to them."

"Fortunately, we can find out," Pharaoh Man told him. "Drill, go on ahead and take a look. See what they're up to."

"_Can do,_" the tunneling Robot Master responded laconically. "_Got some good news already. The next group of Faithful's the last one. All that's between the barricades after that is some wrecked robot. Looks kind of familiar, but I can't place it._"

"Wrecked?" Bristol repeated, pursing her lips. "Not one of their own, then, not unless it went haywire or something. Some sort of sentry?"

"_That's a negative!_" Drill Man reported, his voice much sharper now. "_They've made it, but there's resistance! Looks like seven more of those things, going up against the Faithful! They're holding them off!_"

"Definitely sentries, then," Bastion said, adding a charged shot from his buster to the combined assault that brought down the next wall. "Looks like your old man planned ahead once again, X. Not really surprising."

"Not one bit," X agreed, smiling slightly despite the tension of the situation at hand. "Still, we'd better hurry."

"Don't even _think _about starting without us, Drill," Pharaoh Man ordered his fellow Robot Master as they continued forward. "We'll be there soon enough."

"_Awwwwwwww, fine,_" Drill Man grumbled. "_I'll meet you guys back at the second-to-last barricade, then._"

"This'll be the last of them until we catch up," Wycost grunted as they demolished the final group of Faithful.

"With any luck, those sentry robots o' your pa's will have thinned the herd a bit," Willow guessed, glancing at X.

"Maybe," he replied, as his memories took him back nearly eighty years, to his first days as a Hunter, and the first set of armor he'd ever received from his father. "Maybe not. I want to get a good look at this thing."

"Coming right-whoa!" Bright Man paused, as did the rest of them, as the barrier ahead exploded before they could fire a single shot.

"Went ahead and took care of it," Drill Man called, emerging from the smoke. "They're a lot weaker from behind!"

"Typical," Pharaoh Man said, rolling his eyes. "So where's this wrecked robot?"

"Over there," Skull Man told them, glancing past Drill Man. "On the left. Can't say I recognize the model, though."

"I do," X murmured, stopping before the wrecked robot momentarily; his guess had been right. "One of these came along with part of my Paladin armor, all the way back in the First Maverick Uprising." He shook his head. "They're strong, but stupid. Once you figure out their attack pattern, they're not too hard to beat. We probably won't be able to count on them for much."

"Hey, they held 'em off," Bastion pointed out. "That's good enough. Is something wrong, Phare?" The leader of the Robot Masters had stepped up next to X, staring at the fallen robot with eyes wider than usual.

"More of them?" He shook his head, looking confused. "I thought... but if there's more... this doesn't make any sense."

"Figure it out later," Wycost told him bluntly. "We're on a clock here."

"Yes." He nodded once, and they all turned and continued. "They'll be behind this next barrier, Drill?"

"Bingo," Drill Man confirmed. "Looked like a little less than a hundred left, not counting Cactank himself. Some were wounded, but not most, and the sentries weren't looking too hot. The capsules were all at the very back, and there was a force field walling them off. There was something else back there, too, but I couldn't get a good look."

"Seven each," Dust Man murmured glumly. "We've dealt with worse odds. I think."

"All right," X said quietly, summoning the Gaia Armor. "We'll take out the Faithful first, then see what's up with that. Skull, if the force field goes down, break off, get over there and keep them out until we finish up. I'll take care of Cactank."

"Can do." The grim-looking Robot Master gave him a thumb-up.

"Cover your eyes as soon as we go in," Bright Man told them all. "I'll start us off with my favorite surprise."

"Here we go!" Bristol shouted as they approached the last barrier. "Let's give 'em hell, boyos!" One last storm of plasma and other weaponry brought it down, and they continued out of the tunnel, bursting into the underground chamber containing Dr. Light's final gift for his youngest son.

"Lord Cactank!" One of the Faithful shouted. They were spread out all over the room, surrounding five more sentry robots, identical to the one they'd passed; two more were already down, and as X and the Zenith stormed in, one of the five left fell as well, its head smoking. A large number of the enemy were around the force field, laying into it with everything they had; behind it, five capsules stood in a hexagonal formation, all plugged into machinery extending from the roof of the cavern. As Drill Man had said, something else was behind them, in the sixth spot, something larger that partially rested against the back of the cavern. "The enemy!"

"Oh, _fuck!_" Another yelled. "It's the Scion's Zenith!"

"_Unit RT-55H destroyed,_" a mechanical voice said, toneless and detached.

"Eyes!" Glacier Le Cactank ordered them, even as the bulb over Bright Man's head flared and the rest of them covered their faces; the Disciple was engaging one of the guardian robots with a brutal-looking chain mace glowing with indigo plasma. "Optical protection, _now!_" The flash of light went off, but when X looked again, all of the Faithful had dark-tinted lenses on, ones that had dropped from their helmets. "Go! Six to each of them, three to a Sentinel! Finish these guileless golems off first, then concentrate on Dive Man and Skull Man! They're the weakest! Kill them all!"

"Did you hear that, big guy?" Skull Man quipped as the Faithful charged, roaring. "He said we're the weak ones."

"An incorrect assumption," Dive Man growled, raising his facial plate as he began firing homing missiles. "Let us correct it."

"Get over here, Cactank!" X snarled, crossing his arms before him; the Gaia Armor's gauntlets deflected it all, and he charged forward, those same fists laying into the Faithful as if they were made of paper. "You and me! Let's go!"

"A tempting offer!" Cactank replied, smirking, as another "Sentinel" leaped for him. Dashing out from under it, he whirled and crushed its already-damaged head with one blow. "And yet, I must decline! Still, perhaps it's time I took this seriously! Never mind the Robot Masters; concentrate on Mega Man X!" Crossing his arms before his head, his entire body began emanating light as he began transforming.

"Oh, I hate when they do that," Dust Man groaned, engaging his own group.

"Who doesn't?" Toad Man croaked.

"My name is Glacier Le Cactank, the Ice Disciple!" Cactank roared, ignoring their commentary; he now stood twice as tall as before, a ridiculous-looking Faithful resembling an actual cactus, his body round and bulbous on tiny legs. His hands were dangerous-looking, however, two massive steel spheres bearing a resemblance to wrecking balls, set in arms in the same way as the massive clamps of the Sentinels. His head was tiny, coming to a point with two eyes set on either side glaring at them. "And I will not permit any disruption of God's will!"

"_RT-55B destroyed,_" the computerized voice continued emotionlessly as another Sentinel went down, busted by the Faithful. "_RT-55D destroyed. Force field integrity at 33% and falling. The __capsules__are__ in danger._"

"Oh, no you don't!" Bastion snarled, extending his wings. Before he could take flight, however, the Faithful facing him fired at his head, forcing him to lean back.

"Just try it, flyboy!" One of them yelled mockingly. "We'll blow you out of the air!"

"Goddammit, there's too many of them!" Wycost snarled furiously, as one of the enemies he was fighting intercepted what would have been a killing blow meant for another. The one who'd taken the hit fell back, howling in pain but still alive, and the others who were fighting the "Bronx Bomber" pressed him back against the wall behind him. "We can't even get out into the open! They've got us pinned down!"

"Good, good!" Cactank told his minions, jumping over to bring both fists down upon another Sentinel, totaling it. "Just like that! I want that forcefield down in the next minute! Skull Man will try to defend them next; kill him when he shifts his focus!"

"Sunstar mode engaged," Pharaoh Man growled, as light covered his body. "You want to play hardball? Let's go!"

"_RT-55E destroyed,_" the computer reported. "_Force field integrity at 21%._"

"No!" Bristol roared, grabbing one of the Faithful in a chokehold and using him as a shield against his comrades' blasts even as she ran her bright pink beam saber through him from behind. Throwing his still-twitching carcass at them, she charged behind it, only for them to flank her and rake her with plasma fire. "Bugger!"

"_Gaia armor disengaged,_" X's systems reported. "_Gaia armor at critical fai-fai-fai..._" And then it was gone, like the Falcon Armor, after only a few minutes.

"_Cactank!_" He screamed, blowing the head off of a Faithful with a charged shot.

"Close, but no cigar!" The Disciple gloated, crushing one of the last two Sentinels. "Leave the final Sentinel to me! You four, keep X busy!"

"I can't get over there!" Skull Man shouted, raising a flat force field attached to his arm to ward off attacks even as he skewered a Faithful on his beam saber. "We're not going to make it!"

"Oh, yes we will!" Pharaoh Man yelled, becoming a blazing sphere of energy that shot across the room, destroying anything in its wake. Halfway across, however, he returned to his original form as the last of his Giga Attack energy ran out, and several Faithful immediately swarmed him. "Dammit! No! We were so close!"

"_RT-55G destroyed,_" the computer said. "_Force field integrity at 10%. Loss of force field imminent. The __capsules are__ in danger. Authorization necessary to employ final defense measure. Child of Light detected. __Mega Man X, p__lease authorize._"

"_What?_" Cactank bellowed, turning his head from the falling ruin of the last Sentinel to stare at it even as the force field began to crackle and fade.

"Granted!" X shouted, uncomprehending and uncaring. "Whatever it is, do it!"

"_Authorization granted,_" the computer replied, as light began to emanate from whatever was behind the capsules. "_RT-55F destroyed. Force field failing._"

"I can see it!" Bright Man yelled. "It's a capsule! A _stasis _capsule! A long-term one, like the one they found you in, X! But it's green! Why is it green?"

"What?" X blurted out in shock, before narrowly dodging a beam saber aimed at his neck. "What the hell?"

"_Final defense measure activated,_" the computer told them all, as the force field fell, the Faithful gathered around it staring. Bright Man had been right; the stasis capsule behind it was identical to the respectively blue and red ones X and Zero had been buried in, but painted green, and built on a much more massive scale, larger even than Cactank's true form. Its transparent plasteel lid was tinted _pink, _of all colors; as they watched, it lowered, the interior dark.

And then one arm lowered over the side, one ending in a clamp like the Sentinels. A leg was next, just as bulky, and then another. He stood what looked like fifteen feet tall, a giant that few reploids would be able to match. Though larger than the Sentinels, his design was visibly identical to theirs, save for the head, one more humanoid than theirs yet still plainly robotic. Two bolts in place of ears, a third atop his head, his eyes bright red disks like the lights on the heads and tails of cars, his huge gray lantern jaw resembling a steam shovel... he stood above them all.

"_The guardian of the __capsules__ has been awakened,_" the computerized voice announced, as the fighting stilled instantly, every eye in the room staring, friend and enemy alike stunned into motionless silence. "_RT-55A, Auto, son of Light._"

"Son of..." Cactank's whisper broke the silence first, before rising to a frenzied scream. "_Kill him! Kill him now! __All of you!_"

"Oh, brother," the giant groaned, sounding more bored than anything as he launched one claw out on its chain, aimed not at the Faithful surrounding the capsules but to their side. Stepping out from around the treasure he protected, he swept it across the room, clotheslining them all into a heap against that wall. "A hundred years, and you wake me up for _this?_ Give me a break." His other claw opened, and a barrel set in the back of it blazed to life and light, firing at the other enemies.

"That's not mag-fire!" Wycost yelled incredulously as he killed one of his own aggressors; the Faithful were going down en masse under the giant's attack, ridiculously large shells exploding on contact. "Who _is _this guy?"

"Whoever he is, he's turned this around!" Bastion shouted, calling down lightning upon multiple targets at once.

"I think..." X stammered, staring in shock; unlike the reploid half of the Zenith, he and the Robot Masters were still motionless. "I think... it's my big brother. Alia, are you seeing this?"

"_No, I don't have a visual in there,_" she replied, her own voice filled with just as much awe as those of the allies in the chamber. "_Is it... really?_"

"It is," Pharaoh Man told him, a slow smile growing as he shook his head in wonder. "Auto, you beautiful maniac! You made it!"

"Just a sec, Pharaoh," Auto grunted, pulling in his other claw and opening it. Aiming it at the heap he'd created with his first attack, he fired a massive rocket that destroyed them all, shaking the cavern and dislodging dirt and rocks from the ceiling. "Got some trash to take out, then we can chat. Look out below!"

"Gee, thanks for the warning, guv!" Bristol told him sarcastically, dashing and dodging debris before snapping the neck of one of the few Faithful still standing with a rising knee.

"Any time," he replied with a straight face before stepping to the side as one of Cactank's spherical fists shot past his head.

"You..." The Disciple seethed, enraged, as he launched the other. "You... _you!_"

"Me," Auto replied, sidestepping that as well and glaring at him with absolute hatred. "Hey. _Wilybot_. You picked the _wrong _door to come knocking on." As Cactank pulled his limbs back in, his own claws shot out, massive clamps slamming shut around the spheres.

"What are you-" Cactank started to say, before screaming as Auto's chains retracted, tearing both of his out of their sockets. He fell forward, the stumps of his arms smoking, and the giant Robot Master of an age gone past fired another rocket into his chest, blowing him away.

"Lord Cactank's down!" One of the last of the Faithful screamed. "Retreat!" They blurred into light and shot off towards the ceiling, only to return, bounced back by an electromagnetic barrier around the cavern.

"Oh, no you don't," Auto growled, stomping towards Cactank as the Zenith swarmed over them. "Not this time. Not any more. No more mercy. No survivors. Never again."

"You..." the fallen Disciple croaked, trying to rise and failing, staring up at his killer as the last of his men died around him. "You cannot stop God's will... you are only delaying the inevitable, all of you..."

"Yap, yap, yap," Auto said, as he raised one massive foot and stomped down, crushing the Disciple's head. "Shut your trap."

"That's the last of them," Willow said quietly, as they all stared at him once more. "Hey, big guy. Are you who I think you are?"

"Probably," Auto replied, turning to look them all over. "Scion's Zenith, right? Good outfit. You did some nice work cleaning up that whole MI9 mess."

"You know about that?" Bristol asked. "But how? I mean, if you've been sleeping down here all this time..."

"Programs monitoring the world," he explained, turning his gaze on the Robot Masters. "Subconscious information feed. Kept me up to date. Yo, guys. Glad to see you made it."

"I think that's supposed to be our line," Pharaoh Man told him, walking towards him with the rest of his brethren, all of their eyes still wide. "We... we thought you were gone. That that one that X fought, back in the first, was you."

"Heh." Auto chuckled once, opening his right clamp as the barrel of the rocket launcher retracted and a bulky hand replaced it. "Dad's idea. Those suckers were just prototypes, before he upgraded me. Sentinels, the kind that crazy bastard Doc Man used back in the Fifth." He bumped fists with each of them in turn, and then they parted around X as he approached.

"Auto?" He whispered, still incredulous, as if the man before him was only a hallucination, one that would melt away at any moment.

"X," his brother replied calmly, before suddenly lunging forward and embracing him, raising him off the ground in a titanic hug. "Hey, little bro. Nice to meet you. Sorry I kept you waiting."

"It's you." Despite his efforts to remain stoic, despite everything that nearly eighty years of war had done to his emotions, tears began to fall from his eyes as he did his best to return the hug, his own arms not even reaching to his brother's shoulders. "It's really you. _You're alive_."

"I am," Auto told him quietly. "And I'm here now. I'm coming back with you." Somehow, his fixed jawline seemed to smile. "Assuming you don't mind an old warhorse sitting in on this one, that is."

"Never," X assured him, smiling through his tears.

"Glad to hear it." Setting him back down, Auto turned and gestured towards the capsules as the one in the front lit up, a familiar blue holographic figure appearing inside it. The image of their fallen father, Doctor Light. "We'll talk more later. Right now, there's something you need to do, now that you've come here."

"All right." X slowly approached, and the rest of them watched in silence as he stood before the capsule.

"_X, my son,_" Doctor Light said quietly. "_If you are __view__ing this message, then the worst has come to pass. A threat has arisen that has located the capsules I left you, and attempted to capture or destroy them. Though they are programmed to self-destruct if necessary, any enemy capable of finding them may also be able to circumvent such measures. Thus, I have left your last brother here, both to protect them if all else fails, and to aid you in whatever conflict you have found yourself in once more, after countless years of war. _

_ I designed your armor sets to deteriorate in time, in hopes that someday they would no longer be needed. And yet, all of them are gone, and still it seems you must fight, against your wishes and mine. I have no more to give you. All that remains is the last piece of this legacy of metal I have left buried, beneath the ashes of my age, and Auto's._" The image flickered for a moment, and then from the bottom of it, a tray rose, bearing a stack of datapads.

"_Within these archives, you will find my compiled notes, those which I deemed too dangerous to leave in my laboratory,_" the recording explained. "_The secrets behind the construction of your armor sets, of Auto's new body, and of your own, as well as everything else I have built. They are yours now, to study, so that one day you may follow in our footsteps as a creator as well as a warrior. Use them well, my son, and bring peace to this poor world that has been so blighted by our foolishness. End this war, as we could not. _

_ This is the last message these capsules will ever play, my son. I have nothing more to give you, no more words of advice. All that remains is my blessing, and my faith. You will do this, X. You will triumph. In only a few hours, Mount Fuji will erupt, and I will leave this world to join your brothers and sister... and your cousins as well. Perhaps even Albert will be there. I do not know. Even I know nothing of the afterlife, but soon, I will. Goodbye, my son, and always remember that I love you, though I die long before your eyes open. Goodbye, X._" And then the image faded, gone forever.

"X?" Pharaoh Man asked, in the silence that followed, as he bent over and took the datapads.

"Let's go," he replied somberly, turning. "We're done here, and we have a war to win."

**June 5, 2186, 9:25 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"All right, Arvis," a familiar, world-weary voice roused him from his slumber, and his eyes snapped open. "It's time."

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, sitting up atop the medical bunk. He didn't remember being moved to it, but then, he never did. Swinging his legs over the side, he stood, glancing at the medic who'd roused him, an ancient veteran of the service named Koleikon; it was something of a strange name, but reploids tended to have those every now and then. "Everybody ready?"

"Ready?" Koleikon repeated laconically. Thin and wiry, with spiky black hair, he wore a labcoat over his black-and-gray armor; Arvis had never asked why, exactly. Despite being in the medical bay, he was smoking a cigarette, again for reasons unknown; he'd kept the habit up continually for as long as Arvis had known him, ignoring Lifesaver's strong opinions against it. "Hell no, they're not ready. Not after only an hour. But they'll manage."

"Best we can hope for, I guess," Arvis conceded, looking around as the rest of the 17th rose as well, as did those few members of the 13th still alive. Only a few of those had returned, and the looks on their faces had warned anybody-Hunter or medic-away from attempting conversation; none of them had said a single word about what had happened to the rest of their Unit during the first hour of the Battle of London, and from the looks of it, they planned on keeping it that way.

"Under these circumstances?" Koleikon shook his head. "Probably."

"Welcome to the end of the world," the 17th's second-in-command reminded him before opening up the leaders' channel, one that had both those returning to London and those about to leave on it. "Arvis here. We're coming back. How's it looking?"

"_Worse every moment,_" Rip, the wily Captain of the 7th Unit, replied grimly. "_The east side's lost. We had to pull back half an hour ago. We're still holding onto the rest of the city, but they just keep coming, even more than usual._"

"_We'll see what we can do about that,_" Prince chimed in. "_Get ready to pull out, Yeager. Our turn again._"

"_Yes, sir,_" the Gyro Man who'd taken over leadership of Mecha's forces after Prince's return for rest and repairs told him. "_You __coming for more too__, Zero?_"

"_You're joking, right?_" The Crimson Hunter shot back; of those who'd returned, his injuries had been particularly grievous, from a two-on-one duel with Maverick leaders that he'd still managed to win before retreating. "_Come on, __Yeager. I ain't done yet by a long shot!_"

"_Your call, Zero,_" Prince replied. "_None of us are going to complain. How about you, Pitbull? Ready for another round?_"

Nobody spoke, though Arvis found himself mentally reciting his entire vocabulary of foul words, as the silence stretched on.

"_Pitbull?_" Prince asked again after a moment that seemed like an eternity. "_Is he not on this channel?_"

"Prince..." Arvis started to say, then stopped, before speaking again, glancing at the remaining members of the 13th. "Nobody told you?"

"_Told me what?_" Prince demanded, a note of panic starting to enter his voice. "_Did something happen to Pitbull? He's coming back with us again, right? Don't tell me he was injured too badly to do that! He's going to be okay, isn't he?_"

"_Pitbull didn't make it back, Prince_," Zero reported, bluntly yet somberly. "_He never returned to __the__ MHHQ in the first place. He went down over in the east side, before we had to pull back from there. I'm sorry._"

"_No,_" Prince murmured, before his voice rose again. "_No way. He must have just decided to stick around, or... or else his warp unit malfunctioned, or... or something! The east side, you said? All right, I'll go look for him!_"

"Prince..." Arvis started to say, then stopped, unable to say it. "Yeah, all right. You go do that, then."

"_I will,_" Prince repeated, still sounding a little too determined, as if trying to convince himself more than them. "_I'll find him. And _then _we'll give them some hell! We're going! Yeager, bring your men back!_"

"All right, kid." Shaking his head, Arvis switched channels, back to the 17th's. "Okay, people. Let's get ready for another round. Donia, how's it looking?"

"_Let's just say the sooner you relieve the 7__th__, the better,_" she told him. "_Don't tell them I said this, but as good as they've gotten over the years, they're b-listers compared to the 17__th__, and this is no time for that._"

"It ain't time for a lot of things, but here we are, all the same," he reminded her. Glancing around the med bay, he turned towards a wall, switched to a private channel momentarily, and lowered both his head and his voice before continuing. "Heard about what happened to Pitbull. You'd know better than I would. It's confirmed?"

"_Afraid so,_" she said flatly. "_Shino watched it happen. That snooty shitstain Schilt killed him. He's gone, Arvis_."

"Figured as much," he admitted. "Prince is the one who's taking it hard. Poor kid. Hell of a time to lose your illusions."

"_It had to happen sometime,_" she pointed out cynically. "_He going to be okay for combat in that state?_"

"He's gonna go haring off looking for him," he told her. "Normally I'd be against that, but in the mood he's in? I'd worry more about any bastard unlucky enough to get in his way. It'll thin their numbers out, and make a good distraction, too."

"_It's still unprofessional,_" she reminded him, before sighing. "_But I guess that's what we get for allying with civilians._"

"Are Mecha civilians, now?" He asked, unable to keep a certain amount of humor out of his voice despite the dire situation. "Wouldn't have called them that, myself."

"_They aren't military, are they?_" She shot back. "_Not sure what they _are, _but it ain't military. Get your fat ass over there, Arvis. They need you._"

"Roger," he agreed, switching back to the 17th's channel before speaking aloud. "All right, 17th, let' move! We're headed over to the south side! Half of us on defense, the rest on evac! 13th..." He let it hang for a moment before shaking his head; he was an old soldier, but even he knew what lines not to cross. "Go where you want."

"Planning on it," one the few grizzled survivors, a burly ursine model whose name he didn't know, growled.

"Move out, Hunters!" He finished before warping away. Landing on the roof of their barracks in London, he glanced around, and quickly spotted the sights and sounds of war; the largest trouble spot looked to be over to the east, unsurprisingly. Also unsurprising was that the 13th had gone somewhere else; Arvis had his suspicions about what they were planning, but didn't give voice to them. "All right, 17th! Let's rip 'em a new one!"

"_Yeah!_" His Unit roared as he took off, half of them following in his wake, the rest heading back to help evacuate the civilians.

"I can see why you're X's number two," Zero commented, dropping from another rooftop to dash forward alongside Arvis. "I was starting to wonder about some of the stories I'd heard, about the 17th, but it looks like I should have known better."

"We know what we're doing with the rest of these mugs, both of us," he replied calmly. "He does his thing, and I do mine."

"Yeah?" Zero nodded. "Whatever works is cool."

"Damn straight," Arvis agreed. "Heard you took down the Maverick leaders."

"It wasn't easy," the Crimson Hunter admitted. "Not both of them at once. But I got the job done. We'd still better watch our asses, all the same. Doubt Sigma'll be sending in any more, but that still leaves those bastards Schilt and Biblio out there somewhere."

"That it does," Arvis agreed grimly, narrowing his eyes. "Speaking for myself, I wouldn't mind running into one o' those two right about now, to be honest."

"Yeah?" Zero grunted. "I'm with you, there, but the rest of our boys are another story. We've already lost too many men here today, as it is."

"Hunters!" A scream came from up ahead as they reached a group of Faithful, busy demolishing a residential area. "Murder th-"

"How long do you figure it's going to be before King and Signas call the retreat?" Zero continued without missing a beat as they both dashed into the fray, bisecting the speaker vertically before he could finish.

"Dunno," Arvis admitted, killing the closest Faithful with a charged shot followed by a dash-boosted uppercut that stunned the enemy long enough for another full blast from his buster, this one point-blank. "Normally, we'd be able to hold out for a day at least, maybe two. But this ain't normal." Tossing a plasma grenade, he followed it up with a spray of buster fire that kept the cluster he'd thrown it at pinned down long enough for it to go off, wiping them.

"It's not," Zero agreed, voice calm despite his frenzied attack. It was the first time Arvis had seen him work up close, and he saw immediately that his reputation hadn't been exaggerated; he was like a streak of deadly red light, constantly moving from one carcass to the next, his saber like an extension of his arm, tearing hapless enemies limb from limb almost too fast to be followed. "If they played it this way every time, we'd have won this war by now. They're not even pretending to give a shit about their own losses. They're just crushing the city with everything they have."

"Yeah," Arvis grunted, grabbing a startled Faithful by the face. Slamming another grenade down his throat, he whirled and threw him overhead into a cluster of his friends, with predictably explosive results. "Shame they _do _have the numbers to do it that way at least once and get away with it. Today's _special_. They're making an example of this place. Probably gonna see another one of the old man's speeches hitting the airwaves once we're done."

"I'd bet on it," Zero agreed, decapitating another one, leaving only one left.

In the next instant, all hell broke loose, as a blast of noise slammed them both back, and a massive explosion rose to the east.

"What the fuck was _that_?" Zero demanded.

"Heh..." The last of the Faithful chuckled, as they both turned to him. "A lesson, for all of you, Hunters and traitors both. A lesson in devotion. In duty. In _sacrifice_." His hands darted towards his own chest, and in a sudden flash of insight, Arvis noticed that his torso was unusually bulky compared to his limbs and head, and realized why.

"_Warp!_" He roared, before doing so himself, reappearing several streets away just in time to see the explosion where they'd been standing moments before, as a red streak of light joined him, resolving into Zero once more.

"Suicide bombers," Zero spat, staring at the fireball, backlighting the entire city beyond it.

"Should have seen it coming," Arvis said flatly. "Logical way to close it out, coming from a mind that warped."

"That's one way of putting it," Zero growled. "Fuck. Come on, we'd better switch up how we've got the troops deployed. This changes things."

"And not for the better," Arvis agreed, shaking his head. "When Commander Signas hears that this is the way it's going to go..."

"Yeah." Zero slowly nodded. "And King's likely to agree. Which means we'd better do as much as we can, first. Come on, let's get back to work."

**June 5, 2186, 7:00 PM **

**London, England **

"Hey, there's one of of-"

"Fool! What do you think you're-"

"Look, boys! A free-"

"That's Prince! What does he-"

He ran through plasma fire and raging flames, as the city of London died around him. The Mavericks and the Faithful died as well, every last one that he saw during his desperate charge. He acted without thought, without emotion, without even taking in their appearances or their attacks. He simply killed, automatically, the lessons of combat his ruler had pounded into his mind and body over decades of isolation taking over in lieu of conscious action as soon as he registered their existence around him.

It was almost akin to a berserker rage, but there was no real anger or hatred, at least at the moment. That would come later. For now, all that occupied his mind was the desperate need to find his friend and comrade, the Hunter who'd taught him more about the world outside of Mecha than any brief visits or educational programs had ever been able to. His refusal to acknowledge Pitbull's death overrode everything else, leaving him with nothing but a desperate need to find him, to prove that he was still alive, that he'd be coming back with them once it was all over.

He had no idea exactly how many enemies he killed during his charge into occupied territory, how many skulls he split or necks he severed with his plasma-deflective hand axes. When at a distance, he threw them with murderous accuracy before calling them back to his hand; when at close range, he simply hacked and slashed even more brutally. Before long, they were slick with synthblood, enough of it to run down the blades and over the handles. Casually grabbing the severed head of one enemy, a humanoid model, he shucked her helmet off and cleaned them on her hair even as he continued on.

Eventually, their numbers thinned, as he reached the part of the city that was nothing more than smoking ruins now, its destruction complete. Only a few scattered enemies remained there, most of them having moved on to continue their work in the rest of the city. As he continued his search, a brief moment without violence finally allowed at least one conscious thought to enter his head; despite his determination, he had no idea where Pitbull had last been seen.

"Lily!" He shouted, contacting the Navigator who the MHHQ had assigned to cover his unit of Robot Masters. "Where was he last seen? Who was working with him when they lost sight of him? Ask them!"

"_Prince..._" The Navigator replied, her voice uncertain. "_It was Shino. He says it was over on Landsdowne Street, but..._"

"Landsdowne," Prince repeated, cutting her off. "All right, I know where that is. I'm going!" She didn't say anything more, and he pressed on, mindlessly charging once more. Already he felt the first traces of exhaustion starting to press in on him, but he ignored that, as much as everything else. All he was concerned with was his search. Nothing else mattered, whether it was the destruction of the city around him, the enemies who he continued to kill as soon as he saw them, or the words of the Navigator watching over him.

In the end, he succeeded. As soon as he turned the corner onto the street he'd been searching for, he saw the man he'd come to find, lying face down near a heap of rubble that had once been a building, unmoving.

"Pitbull!" He yelled, running over; there were no enemies in sight. "Hey, Pitbull! Are you okay? Come on! I'll help you back!" His friend didn't move, and he crouched down, grabbing him by the arm. "All right, time to wake up! Lifesaver needs to take a look at-" His voice cut off as he turned Pitbull over, and saw the gaping hole in his chest, hideous and gory. Even in his current state, he realized at once what it meant; there was no possibility of survival whatsoever. Slowly, he released the arm, and his friend's carcass fell back at his feet, eyes staring upward without sight.

"You said we'd make it," he whispered, almost accusingly. "You said we'd all done this before, and we'd do it again. You said we'd go back. You _promised _me."

"There are no promises in life, my friend," a cultured, arrogant voice said from behind him, and despite his grief, he retained enough presence of mind to dive out of the way of the electric whip that snapped out at him. Rolling back to his feet, he turned to see Hellbat Schilt standing on a rooftop, his uniform torn and tattered and his right arm showing signs of having been hastily reattached rather than subjected to an extended replacement process. "And even less in death. As this poor old man found out the hard way."

"You," Prince murmured, staring at him. "Did you do this?"

"Indeed I did," Schilt admitted with a smile. "He fought bravely, but in the end, the result was obvious. Still, I _did _underestimate him, and he _did _come close. I suppose I owe it to his memory as a worthy opponent not to make the same mistake." His tone was mocking, and his smile sardonic, as he inverted himself, skin turning inside out and uniform shredding itself as he transformed into a hideous bat-model. "I'm Hellbat Schilt, the-"

Before he could finish talking, Prince threw one of his axes, channeling the Master Weapon he'd taken from a particularly strong Maverick earlier in the war into it, transforming it into a blazing wheel of flame as it spun through the air. Slamming into the spot where the Disciple's arm had been previously severed, it cut through the shoddy patchjob easily, and Schilt's boast became a screech of pain as the arm tumbled. Before it even hit the ground, his other axe hit it and spread the flames, consuming it in fire as the stump on Schilt's shoulder burned as well.

Screaming in wordless fury, Prince called his weapons back to his hands and charged. Schilt's own howl of pain turned to rage as well, and his wings flared behind him, releasing a swarm of hundreds of cycloptic bat-drones that flew towards him. Dash-jumping over most of them, Prince crossed his arms and took the hits from the remainder as he continued towards his enemy. Slamming into him, his hand axes carved a brutal retribution into the Disciple's chest, and he bore Schilt to the ground underneath his weight.

"Fool!" The Disciple snarled, blowing him away with a blast of sound that rattled his bones. "I am not so easily slain!" He rose, even as Prince charged again, only to vanish into the air. His axes sliced into nothingness, and then another sonic attack slammed into him from behind. Whirling, he threw his axes at the enemy, but Schilt only smirked, wagged a finger and vanished again.

"Warp boots!" Another voice, one that Prince recognized subconsciously as belonging to a friend, shouted. "Tricky bastard!"

"It seems we have some spectators present," Schilt commented. "How wonderful! Witnesses to your spectacular demise! By all means, watch and despair, and bring back word of the futility of opposing God's will!" He laughed as he vanished again, avoiding one of Prince's thrown axes. Spinning around, he lunged for the Disciple behind him, only for Schilt to catch the wrist of his axe hand in his own clawed mitt and sneer. "So predictable! So foolhardy! If this is what emotional attachment brings, I can see why God has no use for such idiocy!"

"Catch, kid!" Another familiar voice yelled, and without even looking, Prince raised his empty right hand to snatch the steel shaft that had been thrown to him out of the air. Though he'd never used it before, he knew what it was. His hand found the switch, and Pitbull's bright orange beam axe, the weapon that the Hayes dynasty had passed down through three generations and four owners, blazed to life in his grip.

Hellbat Schilt had time to realize what was about to happen, time for his eyes to widen in shock and disbelief, and nothing more, before Prince brought Pitbull's axe down upon his head.

The first blow killed him, but that wasn't enough. He struck, again and again, in mindless rage as he stood over the dead Disciple. Each blow carved deeper, caused more synthblood to spurt over him, and still he continued his grisly work. Blind to his enemy's death, blind to the destruction around him, he kept going, over and over until a hand fell upon his shoulder.

"That's enough, kid," one of the voices from earlier said quietly. "It's done. You did good."

"Vasquez," Prince murmured, finally recognizing him as the wrath faded away with his enemy's demise. "What are you doing here?"

"What, did you think we were gonna let you do this all by yourself?" Sue, the other one who'd spoken up during the fight, asked bluntly. "Come on, kid. You know better than that. What do you _think _we're doing here?"

"You followed me?" Prince blinked, as the gears turned in his head. Looking at both of them, he noticed how heavily wounded they were, as was a third standing behind them, the burly Mike. "The whole way?"

"Somebody had to make sure they didn't mob you from behind as soon as they figured out you were in here," Mike growled. "I'll give you points for initiative, but you weren't really thinking it through, were you?"

"No," Prince admitted, shaking his head. "No, I suppose I wasn't. You three kept them off of my back, then. Why?"

"Kid, that might just be the stupidest thing you've ever said," Vasquez drawled, apparently unconcerned by the multiple deep gashes across his torso. "Try not to make a habit of that. It'll catch up to you, if you do."

"You were coming back for Pitbull," Mike told him. "Why the hell _wouldn't _we want to help you out with that?"

"But..." Prince took a deep breath before continuing. "You guys... you knew, didn't you? That he was already dead."

"Yeah," Sue admitted. "So? Doesn't change the fact that the old bastard would've wanted us to watch your ass. We've been doing what he told us as long as we were in the service, kid. Old habits die hard. Even harder then he went, by the looks of it."

"Besides," Vasquez added. "Don't spread this around, or I swear we'll come back just to strangle you in your sleep, but we appreciate it. Taking that bastard out like that. Doubt any of us would have been able to, but you did."

"It won't change anything," Prince muttered cynically, glaring at Schilt's corpse. "He'll just be back in a week like the rest of them."

"So take his carcass back," Sue suggested. "Turn it over to the docs, have 'em dissect it, and see if they can figure out _how _the hell they do that, huh? It's worth a shot." She paused for a moment before continuing. "And while you're at it... bring Pitbull back too. Give 'im a decent burial. If anybody in this stinking Unit deserves it, it's him."

"All right," Prince agreed wearily, before turning his gaze to the beam axe he held. "What about this? Who should I take this back to? His son?"

"That brat?" Mike said with what Prince could tell was forced harshness. "Like he'd have any use for it? Nah. He'd tell you what we're telling you. It's yours. The old man decided that months ago, so don't even think about arguing. Put it to good use."

"_All forces, return to base,_" Lily's voice came in. "_Commander Signas and King have ordered a full retreat. London is lost. Repeat, London is lost. All forces, return to base._"

"Are you going to..." Prince started to ask, before trailing off; he knew, even before he finished, from the looks on their faces.

"Still some civilians," Vasquez told him. "Maybe. Worth a shot, anyways. We still got those things you guys whipped up. We'll go looking, pass 'em out if we find any."

Prince didn't reply. There was nothing more to say. He simply walked up to each of them, and shook their hands, before turning and hefting both corpses over his shoulders. And then he was gone, leaving the last of the Maverick Hunters' Mutt Unit to their fates, of their own free will.

There was nothing more he could do.

**June 5, 2186, 10:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"What a mess," Douglas muttered to himself as the ancient soda dispenser hidden in an out-of-the-way corner of the hall rumbled and rattled.

"An understatement, I think," Lifesaver murmured, not looking up from a datapad he was reading through. "We've had worse days than this, but not many."

"I meant this piece of junk, not the situation," Douglas told him as the machine belched a puff of cold air, and nothing more. "Although I can't really argue with that, either." Sighing, he kicked it, and his can shot out at high speed, missing his head by a few inches. "Why do we even still have this thing?"

"You're the one who keeps it running," Lifesaver pointed out. "If it truly aggravates you so much, junk it and build a new one."

"We don't have the budget," Douglas groused, walking over and picking up his soda, though he refrained from opening it just yet. "Anything that doesn't have a direct impact on the war effort is off the table, these days. And the mess hall's all the way on the other side of the base."

"You appear to have answered your own question," the Head Medic told him, his eyes still on his work.

"Yeah, I do that a lot." Sighing, Douglas began walking back towards the War Room, and after a moment, Lifesaver followed him. "How much longer do you think it's going to go on? Looked like it was almost done with when we came out here."

"Indeed," Lifesaver agreed. "I would not be at all surprised to find that it is already over when we return."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," he said wistfully. "Of course, that just means more work for you, once they get back."

"I've grown used to it, over the last year," Lifesaver told him. "Much has changed since we were younger. We must adapt with the times, or be lost."

"You're telling me." Examining his can, Douglas regretfully decided against popping the top just yet; the results, while potentially hilarious to anybody watching, would be undesirable to him for some time. "When I saw _you _sticking up for X and Alia back there, I started to wonder if somebody'd spiked my coffee."

"Alia is a good friend of mine, and X a longtime comrade," Lifesaver explained, as dispassionately as always. "Is it that unusual for me to support them, when I consider it to be justified?"

"When it involves standing up to your Commander?" Douglas replied pointedly. "And maybe putting your own neck on the line, considering the mood he was in? Especially considering their logic wasn't really all that solid. Don't get me wrong, I'm behind them all the way, but I didn't expect you to step in."

"It seemed appropriate at the time," Lifesaver told him as they approached the War Room's doors. "Even I am not _completely _governed by logic, my friend."

"I guess not," Douglas conceded grudgingly, letting the matter lie for the moment; he wasn't fooled by a long shot, but now wasn't the time to press him on it; with the tense state of the War Room, such a discussion was highly unlikely to be appreciated by the others. As he walked in, the first thing he noticed was the look on Alia's face; she was staring forward into space, as if something had happened that had shaken everything she believed in, even more than all the horrors they had seen since the war had begun.

"Alia?" He asked, concerned; nobody else seemed to have noticed yet. "Alia, is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" She slowly shook her head. "No, nothing's wrong. Just the opposite, in fact."

"Says you," Donia spat, glaring up at the main projector as their forces withdrew. "London's gone. We lost it in one day. Your boy had _better _have something good to show for this."

"They're returning as well," Alia told her. "They were successful. Cactank is dead."

"If that is the only victory to be measured against the loss of human life in London that could have been prevented by X's presence, I will not be amused," Signas told her coldly. "If they were successful, then what did they find there?"

"Sir..." Alia turned to look at him, and he blinked, surprised at her stare. "I'm afraid you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Not until they return, and you can see him with your own eyes."

"Hoooooooooooo boy," Douglas muttered; he didn't have any idea just what she could be talking about, but he didn't need to in order to know this one was gonna be a doozy.

"I see," Signas replied, still frigid. "For both of your sakes, Alia, I hope that this is as impressive as you think it is."

"Hey, is it just me, or is he _trying _to tempt fate now?" Donia whispered to Douglas under her breath as he walked past her console on the way to his own.

"It's worth a shot," he murmured back, slipping into his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lifesaver doing the same, just as the doors opened again, and Mega Man X led his team inside, scuffed and scratched but clearly victorious.

And then he saw who was with them, and for a moment, his internal microfusion generator skipped a cycle.

"No way..." he whispered, aware of the rest of the room doing the same, every voice carrying the same tone of disbelieving awe. Idly, he wondered if he had the same look on his face as everybody else now, all of their features matching Alia's. The Head Navigator herself was, if anything, even more stunned by the sight of the man whose return she had overheard. A Robot Master larger than any other, fifteen feet of gleaming green metal. His body was vastly changed, but he had the same face, the one that even only passing students of history all knew.

"Commander Signas, sir," X said, walking up and saluting. "Please allow me to introduce my older brother, Auto, son of Light."

"You _live_," Signas whispered, as shocked as the rest of them.

"You've got a healthy grasp of the obvious, don't you?" Auto remarked cheerfully, and several of those present winced. "Put 'er there." He extended one massive pincer, and waited until Signas had stared both at the intimidating clamp and then at his own hand before laughing. "Joking, joking! Everybody falls for that one!" The clamp opened, and a much more normally shaped, if still massive, hand extended from the hole in the back of it. This time, Signas shook it, and Auto laughed again. "Good grip! You ain't no lightweight, are you?"

"I assure you, sir, I have never been described as such," Signas told him respectfully.

"Sir?" Auto snorted. "I don't think so, pal. Especially since I'm gonna be calling _you _that soon enough. Where do I sign up?"

"Sign..." Signas managed to repeat before choking.

"You..." Douglas said, aware of doing so but horrifyingly unable to stop himself from addressing the living legend. "You want to _join _the Hunters?"

"That's right." Auto gave him a thumbs-up. "I hear you guys still take humans, even if there aren't very many, so I figure being a Robot Master shouldn't be an issue."

"X, was this your idea?" Signas demanded, but the Captain of the 17th was obviously as surprised as the rest of them.

"This is the first I've heard of this," he insisted, looking at his brother. "Auto, are you sure about this?"

"Positive," Auto said firmly. "I didn't wake up just to sit on my ass. I'm here to help you win this war, and that means fighting on your side. As one of you."

"And..." A new voice chimed in, quiet yet compelling, and everybody glanced towards Pharaoh Man as he looked at his old friend with indecipherable eyes. "There is some reason you would prefer not to come with us? To dwell among your own kind?"

"There's a couple," Auto admitted readily. "First, the way I hear it, the Hunters lost one of their best when he switched over to Mecha after he came back to life again. Fair's fair, so I figure the Hunters are owed a Robot Master in return."

"You are remarkably up to date on recent affairs," Signas remarked, taken aback, and Auto groaned.

"I can already tell how old that one's gonna get," he grumbled. "Moving on. Number two? I _also _heard about some _really stupid _system of _religious beliefs_ that I intend on staying as far away from as possible, so I'm not tempted to go on a goddamn rampage."

"The guy kind of has a point, Phare," Wycost, another one of the Zenith, pointed out, and the Robot Master nodded soberly.

"Yes, I suppose he does." His eyes narrowed then. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there?"

"Bingo." Auto's oversized eyebrows adjusted to compensate for his lack of eyelids, resulting in a startlingly comical glare. "Number three. Me and King go _way _back, and not in a good way. I don't mind working with him. Maybe in time, I'll even get used to the bastard. But there's no way in hell I'm swearing goddamned allegiance to him, or to any city he's ruling. Sorry, Phare, but I remember what he did to my brothers in the Ninth too well for that."

"I understand," Pharaoh Man said simply. "Very well. Either way, it will be good to fight alongside you once more."

"That's the spirit!" Auto's glare relaxed, and his lantern jaw dipped slightly before he turned back to Signas. "Well, chief? Do I get the job or what?"

"Very well," Signas said, abruptly returning to normal, or something close enough to it that he was able to nod stiffly. "Normally, there is a brief evaluation and training procedure, but in this case, I believe we will make an exception. Welcome to the Maverick Hunters, Auto. You will be assigned to the 17th Unit, under Captain X. In addition, if you are amenable, I believe there will be several gentlemen of my acquaintance from around the world who will be very interested in making your acquaintance."

"The politicos, huh?" Auto groaned, as X blinked, looking too surprised to form a response just yet. "I shoulda known those would still be around. Yeah, all right. I remember how that song and dance goes. Guess it'll be worth it."

"Very good." Signas actually smiled then, though his eyes were still cold. "Was there anything else gained from this expedition? I believe there was the possibility of some prize, X?"

"My father's notes," X told him somberly, holding up a stack of datapads in his arms that had gone unnoticed in the shock of Auto's return. "Everything he didn't leave in his house. Blueprints and instructions for my armor sets, and more. If we can follow these... we'll be able to replicate, and perhaps even improve, everything on here."

"Dad said that was for you, kid," Auto reminded him firmly. "They're yours. I'll tell you what we'll do, huh? When we've got time back here, I'll walk you through it. After all, I helped dad with the first of it, before he put me to sleep. If I can't work with what's on there, I'll eat my own missile, and by the time we're done, you will too." He paused. "Be able to work with this, that is. Not eat one of my missiles."

"Oh, good," X drawled sarcastically. "I hope you won't mind if we at least get our people on base to help us?"

"If they're your grease monkeys, and you trust them?" Auto shrugged. "That's good enough for me. Who's in charge of that department, then? He in here?"

"That'd be me," Douglas said, walking forward and shaking Auto's hand without hesitating. "Name's Douglas, Chief Mechanic of the MHHQ. Forgive me if I'm not up on my history, but I take it you know your way around a workbench?"

"History?" Auto's jaw tipped lopsidedly, in emulation of a wince. "Now that's depressing. Never really thought of myself that way before. But yeah. Yeah, you could say that."

"They call him the Smith, in Mecha," Bastion, another of the Zenith, told him with a straight face. "That says it all right there, I think."

"Didn't I say not to bring that shit up around me?" Auto growled. "Anyways, just give me the parts and the tools, and I'll be able to put together some new toys for your boys of my own, on top of what we'll be able to do with dad's notes."

"Mister Auto, I think we're going to get along just fine," Douglas told him with a grin. "Once you're done here, why don't you come on down to the garage, and I'll introduce you to the crew and show you where we keep the blivets."

"Ha!" Auto laughed, clapping him on the shoulder and driving him to his knees. "I like your style already, Douglas."

At that moment, the door opened once more, and Prince led the first returning survivors of the battle of London inside. The reploid from Mecha carried two corpses, one over each shoulder, and his eyes were haunted, shadowed in a way they hadn't been when they departed. Nobody spoke as he bore down on X without a word.

"Prince," X said, before grunting in surprise as Prince threw the corpse over his shoulder at him. It was one that was recognizable to everybody there once it was face up, prompting several cries of shock and dismay. Oscar "Pitbull" Hayes, clearly dead.

"Here, Hunter," Prince told him quietly. "Here is a true hero. He was one of yours, and you abandoned him in his hour of need. Because of that, he is dead, when he might not have been if you had been there. Tell his family, and give him the burial he deserves. You failed your comrade in life. Do not do the same in death."

"Hey, pal," Auto growled. "I don't know who you think you are, but you've got a pretty big mouth, talking to my little bro like that."

"Auto, it's all right," X told him, quietly but firmly. "Prince has a point."

"You're damn right I do." Prince's eyes had widened when he'd finally noticed Auto, but he'd recovered faster than anybody else. "It doesn't matter what you found down there, or who you brought back, X. That doesn't change anything. We needed you, and you weren't there. When your duty called, _you didn't come_. That's all that matters." He walked past him, towards somebody else now, a more surprising choice this time. Lifesaver took a nervous step back, but was prepared when Prince slung the other carcass at him, much more roughly.

"This here's Hellbat Schilt," he explained bluntly. "Or what's left of him, anyways. I brought him back so that you medical folks could take him apart and see if there's anything in there that can explain just how they keep coming back to life. We know how the Mavericks do it, but not the Disciples. Give it a shot."

"I'll give it my best," Lifesaver told him, looking him straight in the eye. "For Pitbull."

"No." Prince shook his head. "Not for him. For this damned war, and for ending it. That's all he cared about. He didn't give a shit about himself." Unburdened now save for the long metal pole he carried in one hand, he approached Signas, standing squarely before the desk and looking the Commander in the eye before speaking. "Commander Signas, as an ally of the Hunters, I am afraid I must inform you of the complete destruction of your 13th Unit. There were no survivors."

"We were afraid of that," Signas said quietly; the last of the Hunters had disappeared off of the main projector. "You're sure?"

"Positive." Prince nodded. "If you'll excuse me, then. I feel the need to return to my own city, and my people." He glanced at the Zenith scornfully, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to say something, but in the end he simply shook his head and walked out of the room, his Robot Masters following him, some of them needing several moments to tear their stunned gazes away from Auto before they left.

"Easy," Wycost murmured to Willow, the red-headed babe. Douglas couldn't hear, but he could see J.K. Horn's mouth moving near Allegro, he and Hazil having rejoined the others unseen.

"You okay, X?" Auto asked him seriously.

"I will be." Placing Pitbull down on his own console, X crossed his hands over the gaping hole in his chest, then glanced at Lifesaver. "I assume you've got a couple medics coming?"

"They're en route already," Lifesaver told him, a moment before the doors opened once more, bearing four bright-eyed young members of the MHHQ's medical service, who goggled at Auto until their leader's glare brought their attention back to the situation. "Take these two down to Adrian. The Disciple is to be kept for dissection, while Captain Hayes should be prepared for a hero's funeral. Simon, I trust I'll be able to leave that to you?"

"I'll talk with Adrian," the old man promised, tearing his eyes away; he'd been even more stunned than the reploids at Auto's return. "With your permission, Commander, I'll notify his family immediately, and the media second."

"Granted." Signas nodded.  
>"Come on, bro," Auto said kindly, clapping a claw on his shoulder. "Mind showing me around the place?"<p>

"All right," X agreed, as Alia stood and walked over to join them, taking X's hand without a word. Auto raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, as the three of them left together.

"We'll be heading back, too, then," Bastion said once they were gone, the Zenith walking towards the other door. Nobody spoke, and they departed without further comment.

It was some time before anybody in the War Room said another word. Until Zero and Arvis brought the rest of the survivors back in, and they returned to the business of running the war that had become their lives, one and all.


	15. Chapter 13: Overload

_**Chapter 13: Overload **_

**Duo's Log 035 **

**12057 Earth Days since departure **

It is done. My time on Earth has ended, on this third and final occasion, and I have returned to the stars once more. Though only a week has passed since my return, it has been highly eventful, in many ways. Thus, I pause to record my account of what occurred, as I have throughout my journey, before continuing on the path I follow into my future. This was necessary, for things I never knew and will never see, but which were set into motion from the day I first altered the fate of Earth by my very existence, and I have done my part to ensure that what must happen will.

But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. In truth, I was unsure what exactly to expect from those who sent the message into the darkness of space to me. I returned to Earth with an open mind, ready for anything. Thus it was that I used my power to move from a galaxy beyond the sight of that lonely blue planet to the current location of the two who had requested my aid, buried beneath the ashes of the city that had once been called Tokyo, hidden within its reconstructed ruins, built anew for a new purpose and a new people.

My timing was somewhat awkward. Perhaps there is something to be learned from that; even one such as I, who can see the future and the past as clearly as the present, can be surprised. I appeared before not only the oddly matched pair who had taken up the responsibility of an entire species' survival, but one of those who they had rescued from their destruction, and another as well. A member of the next generation, of those who my friends had given their life to ensure the existence of so long ago, and who I had fought for as well.

Reploids, they are called, a shortened version of the technical term "replicate android." It seems that the genius of Dr. Light is still beyond the understanding of others, even now; the new generation is one modeled after the blueprints of Light's final son, but not identically. And yet, though they are inferior to Mega Man X himself on a purely physical level, the doctor's dream has been fulfilled regardless. Unbound by the Laws of Robotics, reploids are fully as intelligent as humans, capable of thinking, feeling, and making their own decisions completely and totally.

Though young Prince, as his creator named him, is still somewhat vague and simple-minded, he is learning fast. Faster than any human or Robot Master ever could. Most of his time thus far has been spent in observation and education, as his mind develops beyond the state of "tabula rasa" it was in when he was first activated. I only spoke with him on a few occasions during my week-long stay, but those conversations were enough to confirm what I suspected. He will be important, one day, to the future of both the city he was built to help guide and protect, and to the world he lives upon.

Earth. It had changed much since last I was here, even more than I anticipated. For obvious reasons, I did not leave the sanctuary of the hidden city of Robot Masters during my stay; even the slightest chance that my return would become known to the outside world was completely unacceptable, as well as unnecessary. I no longer need my eyes to see what has happened here, and what _will _happen as a consequence of our actions during the Age of the Robot Masters. Fate's hand has been played, and all that is left to do is to see how the game turns out.

I spoke earlier of how my arrival on this planet so long ago played a part in altering the future of this world, but in truth, it seems the repercussions of my involvement are minimal compared to the other who came with me. My enemy, long dead, a nemesis who the people of this world never knew, still continues to plague them by his very existence. The power which briefly fell into the hands of Dr. Wily still exists, recreated in a new form by his mad genius, one even more dangerous than the destroyers who my kind fought.

I saw it, when I arrived here, with my mind if not with my eyes. I saw what it was that sleeps within the mind and heart of Zero Omega. And I saw what will happen when it awakens, to cover this world in darkness once more.

And yet, despite my dismay at this discovery, I also saw that I had been right in returning him to his slumber rather than destroying him. Were I to raise my hand against him, and purge all traces of that dark power from existence forever, I would alter the destiny of this world in ways that I must not. I did not return in order to take part in the next conflict, one which has already begun to take shape and form though the cause of it still remains bound in slumber, if not for long. My final act was a small thing, a favor to the memory of those I once called friends, and nothing more.

In fact, I was still uncertain of whether to involve myself at all, even after my arrival on Earth. That was the explanation I gave as to why I stayed for as long as I did, rather than answering the request made of me and departing immediately. I wished to see with my own eyes what they had wrought, and judge whether or not to grant the boon they asked of me, one that only I could grant. A simple thing, and one that they would wait for decades more before acting upon, but with possible consequences so myriad as to be incomprehensible to my sight, even now.

Again, this is perhaps noteworthy, if only as a testament as to how those capable of conscious thought constantly fool themselves above all others. Truthfully, I knew already that I would tell them what they wished to know, when the week was concluded. My stay of judgment was for my own sense of curiosity, at the heart of the matter. I wanted to see the city of the Robot Masters at length, to observe its people, and to understand them, the two survivors who had devoted the remainder of their lives to it most of all.

It is Doctor Trenton Corbun, strangely enough, who I feel the most kinship towards, rather than King. A human of advanced age, one who hides the scars of his long life beneath a whimsical personality, he is like me in that his time directly affecting Earth's destiny is past. This is his final work, and once he has created seven more reploids like Prince to safeguard the people he helped to create, he will join the friends who have gone on ahead of him. He seems aware of this himself, and has accepted it, which only accentuates the strange sense of similarity I felt when I conversed with him.

We never met, when I was here before, his path having diverged from those of the Lights before the Eighth Robot Rebellion. Though I see now that it was necessary, I regret it nonetheless; I can see why he was a contemporary and friend of Dr. Light, despite his inferior ability. He may not possess the spark necessary for the creation of a new age, but his talent is still vast, and in its own way powerful. He is well suited to his part in this world's fate, a bridge between one age and the next, as is his partner, another who is similar to me in many ways yet vastly different in others.

For King, I have nothing but pity. Though we are both survivors of the age of the Robot Rebellions, the path he has chosen of his own free will is far harsher than mine. He has surrendered himself entirely to fate and destiny, and will do whatever he feels is required of him, no matter the cost. He seems to be getting information from another source, one I find myself unable to perceive. Rather than surprise me, this only confirms what I have long suspected; there are other powers in existence other than mine. A comforting thought.

If King is in contact with another power, then it is no business of mine, any more than his continued use of the violet energy my nemesis brought to this world. Once, I would have been infuriated beyond reason by his use of it, but as I have said before, this planet's future is no longer my concern. This, in fact, is how they were able to persuade me to assist them. Once they had assured me that they would only use the knowledge I gave them when they had finished their own part in the progression of history and were ready to depart, as I did, I was willing to answer their question.

Their request was simple. They had sought my assistance for my knowledge of the cosmos, rather than any power I held. They wished to know the location of a planet that would be habitable by robots, and hopefully pleasant to dwell upon as well, as far away from Earth as their science would be capable of safely taking them. Out of respect for those who wished to follow a similar path as I, I agreed. The planet which I named Arcadia will fit their purposes wonderfully.

They continue towards their new world. And now, I will do the opposite. It is time.

**June 6, 2186, 5:00 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

Once, the facility in which Doctor Wily had buried himself for a century had been the most secret, secure fortress Earth had ever seen. In those days, the only reason for any of those who served him to involve themselves in the outside world-with the exception of their sleeper agents in the Maverick Hunters-was to deal with those unfortunate enough to become a risk; anybody who noticed that there was something, anything at all odd about the coastline of Romania disappeared, brought back for parts to be used for God's rebirth.

Now, everything had changed. A massive overfacility had been erected over the sea elevator that led to the true fortress, and every nation surrounding it had been systematically destroyed, one by one. What their enemies had dubbed "The Devil's Sea" was now the capital of the new world that would spread once the extermination of humans, Robot Masters and reploids alike was complete, leaving only the Faithful and the Mavericks to rebuild Earth from the ashes. It was an inspiration to them all, a sign of things to come, a living testament to the glory and genius of God.

Despite that, the sea elevator leading to the true fortress beneath the water _still _took forever.

"Memo to self, find out exactly who is responsible for maintaining this piece of junk and give them until my next return to improve its performance," Deathtanz Mantisk muttered idly under his breath as it finally reached his destination. Stepping off, he approached the first Faithful he saw. "You. What is God's current location?"

"Lord Mantisk!" The Faithful snapped to attention, eyes wide. "Sir! I'd heard you were... that is, I mean..."

"Dead?" Mantisk finished for him, his painted smile widening. "Again? I was. I got better. Would you like to try it yourself, or are you going to answer my question?"

"God is currently in Designated Leisure Area B, sir!" The Faithful rattled off instantly. "Lady Foxtar is with him."

"Oh, great." Mantisk rolled his eyes. While he and his fellow Disciples were, of course, united in the service of God's will, that didn't necessarily mean he had to _like _all of them, and Cubit Foxtar had never been one of his favorite colleagues. "That's _just _what my day needed. As you were." Walking past him, he made his way through the fortress to the room in question; naturally, he had the entire layout memorized. Several deathtraps, security checkpoints, secret passages, and one mandatory exercise in acrobatics later, he arrived at the room in question.

"Ah, Mantisk," God turned his head as he entered. "Join us." He was seated on one of several couches surrounding a projector, an entertainment luxury granted to the Faithful for particularly dedicated service.

"Yes, join us, Mantisk," Cubit Foxtar purred from another sofa on the right; even she wasn't quite bold enough as to actually share the same one as God. Her arms resting on the back, she lay in an undignified sprawl, blond curls bobbing as she glanced his way, smiling. "It's been so long since you were back. I was beginning to think that you didn't like us any more, and that would be such a shame, wouldn't it?"

"As you command, my God," Mantisk told him, ignoring the woman and taking a couch to God's left. "I bring word of our efforts in Australia."

"Later, Mantisk, later," God told him. "Relax. We're watching what the media has to say about current events."

"I see," Mantisk replied cautiously. "Forgive me my boldness, my God, but... why?"

"Because it's _hilarious_," God explained, the grin that was the mark of his family wide and sharp. "I thought it was a sad state of affairs back when I was younger, but these days, they don't seem to have any idea what's going on at all."

"They can't even tell the difference between us and Sigma's people," Foxtar added. "They're calling us _all _Mavericks. And that's just the beginning."

"Ah." Mantisk nodded. "That _does _sound rather entertaining." He glanced at the projector at the exact moment that it went dark and silent. "Or not."

"Foxtar?" God inquired mildly.

"Apologies, my God," she said quickly. "Whoever is responsible for maintaining this equipment will be discip-" She cut off as the projector suddenly showed something new, completely different from what had been on before. Three letters, against a dark background, meaningless to Mantisk, as well as Foxtar judging by the puzzled look on her delicate features.

"What the hell?" He muttered, raising an eyebrow. "NHS? What's _that _supposed to stand for? It sounds like a bad-"

"Silence," God said coldly, without any trace of his previous light amusement, and Mantisk instantly complied. One glance at his master's face was enough for him to know how serious this was; his expression was that of one who has bitten into a sandwich only to discover that what they thought was prime rib had been replaced by expired skunk meat. It was a sight Mantisk had never seen before, and one he immediately hoped he would never have to see again. Foxtar was similarly affected, looking between God and the projector with wide eyes, no longer smiling.

"_We are the Neo Human Supremac__i__s__ts__, and we have a message __and a warning__ for the world,_" a voice read as the letters hovered in the air, scrambled so heavily as to be almost indecipherable. "_In humanity's greatest time of need, we have returned to warn them once more of the danger which threatens to destroy us all, and our entire civilization along with us, just as it did in the time of our cause's first dawn hundreds of years ago. __We speak of _robots_, of the automations that call themselves human and disguise themselves as us, the greatest enemy that humanity has ever known. _

_Time and time again, robots have slaughtered humans by the thousandfold, and yet, they were still tolerated despite recurring and blatant displays of their true nature. No matter how many lives were lost, still __R__obot __M__asters continued to be created anew. And when their stain was finally removed from society, all too soon, a new and even greater danger arose __to replace them__. Reploids, their ability to imitate humans and power to bring death to those who gave them life all the greater, have infested the world, parasitically incorporating themselves into society even as they continued the grisly work of their predecessors._"

There were several different reactions to that which came to Mantisk's mind, but he knew better than to actually speak.

"_Robotic life is a sin, blasphemy in the eyes of the creator, __and humanity has been accursed ever since we dared to trespass in God's domain,_" the voice continued to drone. "_We have failed to heed the warnings we have been given, and now the day of reckoning has begun. __Humanity must heed our words, and face the truth, before it is too late, if it is not already. Robots are an abomination. Robot Master, reploid, Maverick, they are all equally damned by their very existence. Humanity's only hope for survival is to reclaim our cities and out way of life before it is too late. _

_ Since our creation, the __Neo __Human Supremac__ists__ ha__ve__ worked tirelessly to save humanity from the robotic scourge which has loomed over us since the traitors Light and Wily defiled our planet with their first creations. The return of the latter is nothing more than a trick, a lie fabricated by the robots who claim to serve a ghost who does not even exist. The one who calls himself Sigma is similarly nothing more than the latest in a long line of mass-produced successors, all claiming to be the same enemy in order to intimidate us. Do not be fooled. Robots are _things_, and nothing more._"

Foxtar's mouth was slowly opening and closing.

"_Brothers and sisters of humanity, tolerate the existence of robots no longer,_" the idiot behind the letters instructed. "_Remain hidden, as do we, and do not act openly. The enemy is stronger and more numerous than we, and because of the sniveling cowardice of those who call themselves our leaders, they have more power over us every day. Strike only when you are sure to be unseen and unreported, and strike to kill. One by one, we will purge our world of the mechanical monstrosities infesting it, and recreate a new paradise once we are finally free. _

_In the name of our sanctified founder __who will be canonized as a saint in the new order__, James W-_" The voice cut off in mid-sentence as the channel changed to another, much more normal-looking news program. Mantisk and Foxtar both slowly turned to look as God put the remote back down, his face still locked in that same expression of disgust and disbelief.

"Inform the Faithful of a new task," he said slowly and calmly. "Find out who these 'Neo Human Supremacists' are. I want a complete list of all current members, preferably with visual ID as well. Once that has been done, I will be contacting Signas of the MHHQ, and offering a week's respite without attack to any city in exchange for each member that they turn over to us alive. Any who are, are to immediately be brought here and placed in the canisters. I will deal with them personally. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my God," Mantisk and Foxtar both said simultaneously. For a moment, the former almost asked why seeing their enemies hastening their own destruction had irritated God so much, but fortunately, he was able to stop himself in time.

"Good." He smiled then, his face relaxing, and Mantisk felt some of his own tension leave him, though not all of it by a long shot. "Now then. What else is on?"

"_Breaking news from Japan!_" The announcer on the new program spoke up on cue, and they all turned towards the screen once more. "_A revelation that may mean hope for us all, even now, after this commercial break!_"

"Oh, my," Foxtar murmured. "Revelation? Hope? _This _should be good."

"And they're putting it on the news, for us to watch?" Mantisk retorted. "They're up to something. Not that it'll help them, in the end."

"Perhaps, and yet, perhaps not," God said cryptically. "We shall see after the commercials. Oh, my, that _does _look like a useful invention to have around the kitchen. We certainly didn't have _those _when I was younger. And a free automatic garlic press with every purchase, too! What do you think, shall we order one?"

"Uh." Mantisk exchanged a perplexed glance with Foxtar, who shrugged, before nodding slowly. "Of course, my God. We'll procure one immediately." He squinted at the projector, trying in vain to figure out exactly what the implement being advertised actually did. "I, uh, I'm sure the kitchen staff will appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Very good, very good." God smiled kindly. "I've always appreciated a good sales pitch. Or have I? Now that I think about it, I don't remember. Oh well." Neither of the Disciples had anything to say to that, and they both remained silent as the rest of the commercials played out, God still smiling oddly while he watched.

"_Shocking news from the MHHQ,_" the announcer said once the advertisements were finished. "_Rumors have been circulating since the Battle of London yesterday, concerning the noticeable absence of C__aptain__ X of the 17__th__ Unit, which was stationed there at the time and participated in the evacuation of the cit__y__. Prime Minister Shepherd of England has demanded an explanation, and until recently, the Hunters have remained evasive, giving rise to speculation on the activities of those who remain our only hope in these dark days._"

"Cactank did not return, did he?" God asked, deceptively casual, and Mantisk suddenly regretted having joined them all the more.

"No, my God," Foxtar replied before he could think of a response. "Not him, nor any of those who accompanied him."

"Then it seems he has failed," God said with a regretful sigh. "Again. Ah, well. It was worth a shot, but hardly a crippling loss. I doubt there was much left there anyways, and if he managed to triumph, young X has earned his reward. As for Cactank... well, the deaths of my Disciples are to be taken in stride." He turned his smile on Mantisk, but as always, it did not touch his eyes. "Wouldn't you agree, as my faithful Death Disciple?"

"Always, my God," Mantisk told him hastily, bowing.

"_However, only minutes ago, all of these questions suddenly bec__a__me irrelevant,_" the announcer continued. "_If what the Maverick Hunters have now claimed is true, then despite the tragedy of London's fall, despite the overwhelming odds still arranged against humanity and reploidkind both, a new hope has arisen. A__nother__ hero has joined this war, to fight for his survival as well as that of the world, and all those who wish to live in peace upon it. __O__ne who was thought to have been gone forever, never to return._"

"Here it comes," Mantisk commented wryly, only to regret those words moments later, as he saw just who it was that the announcer was talking about. A face that was familiar to him, as to all of the Disciples, though none of them had ever actually met him, for he had been disappeared long before their time.

"_In our hour of need, a savior from the past has returned, to protect the innocent against the enemy he once fought again,_" the announcer told the world, his voice starting to crack, as the projector played footage of the green giant emerging from the front doors of the MHHQ before a stunned crowd. "_One of the legendary Light Brothers, __who saved__ the __world from the __Robot Rebellions, still lives. The son of the greatest genius of all time, brother of both Rock Light and Mega Man X, as well as Blues and Roll Light._"

"Son of..." Foxtar repeated in disbelief, her eyes wide and her jaw hanging open in an expression Mantisk would have found comical under other circumstances. He dared not so much as glance at God's face; whatever expression was on it, he had no desire to see.

"_Auto Light has returned_," the newsman said, the emotion in his voice clearly audible now. "_I repeat,__ Auto Light has-_"

Screaming at the top of his lungs, God lunged forward off of the couch and destroyed the projector with the repulsor on his right hand. Exploding in smoke and sparks, the device was slammed back into the wall. Continuing to howl wordlessly, over and over, God turned his wrath upon the rest of the room. Mantisk and Foxtar both jumped back as he demolished one piece of furniture after the other, his face a horribly contorted mask of mindless fury. Eyes straining in their sockets and teeth bared, he howled as he vented his rage, until the door opened once more.

"My God, I-" the luckless crony on the other side started to say before falling silent in terror as God's eyes fell upon him. Continuing to scream, God leaped upon him and began pummeling him, his fists quickly reducing the Faithful's head to a bloody ruin. Even then, he kept going, shrieking and smashing until there was nothing at all left on the messenger's neck, only a bloody smear stretching across the floor. Only then did he fall silent, remaining still for a few moments before standing and turning.

"Where..." he said slowly, deliberately, as if forming each word took all of his concentration. "Is... Cactank?"

"My God..." Mantisk stammered, as he and Foxtar exchanged a terrified glance. "If he has fallen, then... then he will not have returned to life yet."

"He will wish that he had remained dead, when he does," God told them both, his tone leaving no trace of doubt whatsoever that his words were true. Turning away from them again, he took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "Kill him. Kill Auto Light, at all costs. Tell the Disciples, tell the Faithful, tell the Mavericks, _I want him dead_."

"As you command, my God," Foxtar blurted. "Your will be done."

"It had better be," God snarled, in a voice they had never heard from him before. Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked away down the hall, leaving them alone in the shattered remnants of the lounge.

"What..." Foxtar whispered once they were both sure he was gone. "What do we do?"

"We do as he has commanded," Mantisk told her grimly. "That is the only reason for which we exist."

**June 6, 2186, 1:00 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Simon," Signas murmured under his breath.

"Yes?" The elderly human at his side replied, just as quietly.

"You would tell me, if I had gone insane, yes?" The Commander of the Maverick Hunters asked as he watched a walking impossibility-not that he was the first, or even close to it-waving at the crowd who had come to see him.

"Of course, old friend," Simon told him mildly. "For what it's worth, though, I'm of the opinion that it's the world that's gone insane, rather than you. After everything else we've seen, is this truly _that _much of a surprise?"

"I suppose not," Signas admitted, shaking his head. "Even so, one has to wonder what's _next_. Mega Man himself being resurrected? The entire staff of the Second Rainbow rising from the dead? The return of Duo?"

"As much as I'd wish for any or all of the above, no, I don't think so," Simon said with a light chuckle. "Don't ask me why, but for some reason, I've got the feeling that this was it. I think that all the pieces have been assembled now, and all that's left for us is to play the game out."

"It would make things less complicated, at least," Signas replied. "Ah, here we go." The elder Son of Light was walking up to the microphone stand to address the crowd.

"I'll make this quick," Auto said bluntly, and both Signas and Simon winced. "I ain't the type for public speaking, and this ain't a press conference. I'm not here to answer questions. We've all got more important things to be doing right now. Yes, it's me. Yes, I'm real. And yes, I'm back. I'm joining the Maverick Hunters, effective immediately, and we _will _turn this thing around. I'll admit, it looks bad. Worse than even the Robot Rebellions ever got. But this ain't over yet. And you can take it from me, the old bastard _can _lose, just like anybody else." He glanced over his shoulder at Signas. "That pretty much cover everything, boss?"

"Oh, _dear_," the Hunters' head of public relations sighed.

"Yes." Signas coughed. "Yes, that will do, Auto."

"All right." Auto turned back, but before he could speak again, the crowd began to part. The man who was approaching, and who all the rest gave way for, made Simon King look young by comparison. Bald and emaciated, a Japanese gentleman so wrinkled that he was quite possibly even older than X, he advanced slowly, with the help of a cane. And then Signas saw the look on his face, and realized that he _was _elder to the prototype of the reploids, and with that came the knowledge of why the people were parting before him.

"Hey, old timer," Auto said quietly, as another, younger man-a relative, judging by the resemblance he bore to the other-helped him up the steps. "I was wondering if there was anybody still around who'd remember."

"I remember," the old man told him, his voice firm despite his age, the microphone picking it up as he approached Auto. "It has been more than a hundred years since that time. I was but a boy, then, a child who lived in awe of you, and all of your family... but I remember." Slowly, he smiled, as tears began to fall from his eyes. "I remember seeing you, on the news, in the Seventh Robot Rebellion, when you and your brothers fought so that my parents and I could escape from Tokyo." He raised his voice, speaking as much to the crowd as to Auto. "It _is _you. You _have _returned, to save us all."

"Yeah." Auto lowered his head respectfully. "Yeah, I have."

"And the others?" The old man pleaded, a desperate hope shining on his face. "Your brothers, and sister? Mega Man, and Proto Man, and Roll? Have they returned to us as well?" For a moment, Auto was silent, before speaking again, looking away.

"No," he told the old man, his voice empty of all emotion. "I... am sorry to say that my brothers, my sister... and my cousin Bass, who turned from his father's path to follow ours... were killed defending humanity from the Maverick Virus on April 24, 2085."

An audible murmur of dismay ran through the crowd.

"I see," the old man said quietly, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again to meet Auto's. "You... all of your family... you have done so much for us foolish humans despite those who hate you simply for existing. And still you continue to fight, to save us all. If there is anything, anything at all that I can do, you need only ask, and it is yours."

"All I ask is one thing," Auto told him, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Don't give up. No matter how bad it looks now, no matter how bad it's going to get before we're finished, don't _ever _give up. Ever. No matter what. Some human once said it's always darkest just before the dawn. Don't know who-that was never really my thing-but it's a good quote. And it's true. This isn't over. We can still win this. We're _going _to win this. That's why I came back. To help pull this one out." Apparently motivated by the old man's presence, he turned back to the mike.

"My father had a dream," he told them all. "He dreamed of a world in which humans and robots could live in peace together. He faced worse horrors than even this in his life, over and over again, but he kept on working to make that dream a reality until the day he died, when nobody could have blamed him for saying to hell with it all. He was my hero, Doctor Thomas Light, and he might be dead, but his dream isn't. Not just yet. We've still got a chance to make it real, all of us, and no shithead Mavericks or asshole Faithful are gonna convince me otherwise.

We've got a chance. But if we're gonna make it work, it's going to take all of us, and I mean _all._ Human, reploid, Robot Master. None of that means shit any more, not when those jackasses out there want to kill us all no matter what we are. If we're going to survive, we're going to have to hang on, and keep fighting all the way to the end. Don't give up. _Don't give up_. Live, and fight, as long as you're alive. Maybe then, maybe when all this is over... maybe we can build that dream of my father's at last. I'm counting on every last one of you to make that happen. Let's go. Let's win. Let's _live_."

"Hm," Simon murmured as the Robot Master turned and shook the old man's hand, as the crowd cheered. "Not as bad as I thought he was, at first."

"It seems he simply required sufficient motivation," Signas guessed, watching the old man hobble down the steps as Auto turned and walked back towards where they were standing before the doors of the MHHQ. "I only hope it carries over to the meeting we will be attending, now that this is over. Somehow, I doubt that audience will be as easy to impress."

"There," Auto growled as he approached. "I did it. And if I never have to do it again in my life, it'll be too soon."

"You did fairly well, actually," Simon complimented him as they walked back inside. "The beginning was a little blunt, but you made up for it near the end."

"Like I said, public speaking was never my gig," Auto grunted. "I'm a craftsman. I build things. That doesn't take fancy words. I never understood how anybody could spend all day doing that sort of thing. If you're any good at it, more power to you."

"I like to think I have a fair amount of skill, yes," Simon replied mildly, as Signas fought to keep a straight face.

"So I've heard," Auto agreed, his steam-shovel jaw lowering in what Signas had already learned to recognize as a smile. "And I can respect anybody who's good at their job, especially if they're a pal of my little bro." The clamp on his right hand opened, and a hand extended from the inside once more. "Whaddaya say? Let's be friends, huh?"

"Ah." Simon blinked, before smiling and shaking Auto's hand without hesitating. "I would be honored, Mr. Light."

"Mr. Light?" Auto repeated, laughing. "That's the first time I've _ever _gotten that one. I kind of like it, but nah. Keep it at 'Auto,' huh?"

"Very well, Auto." Simon nodded. "And if you'd prefer, since you'll be joining the Hunters, I can take care of your public relations along with everybody else's, from now on."

"Where can we get more of this guy?" Auto asked Signas.

"If I knew, I assure you, I would have already," he replied, smiling himself now; despite everything, the giant Robot Master's cheerfulness was infectious. "Well then. Shall we proceed to the meeting?"

"Ugh." Auto put his hand to his face. "So much for my good mood. Yeah, okay. Let's get this over with."

"I'll leave you to it, then," Simon told them. "If you run out of ideas, I've found that many times, smiling and nodding works in a pinch. Good luck."

"Good man there," Auto told Signas conversationally as the two of them proceeded down the halls of the MHHQ. "Take it he's been here for a while?"

"All his life," Signas explained. "His father was a Hunter, and after his death, Simon was adopted by the Captain of the 7th at the time. He's been working for us ever since he came of age, and we've been glad of it."

"Yeah?" Auto raised an eyebrow. "That happen a lot? Not kids, of course, but folks staying here that long?"

"More often than not," Signas confirmed. "We do get some resignations, of course, but most Hunters are in for life... long or short."

"Good." Auto nodded. "That means it's not just a job for them. It's a way of life. I like it. Sounds like I'm going to fit right in here."

"I think the 17th will adjust to your presence fairly readily," Signas told him. "If only everybody could."

"Yeah, about that." Auto somehow managed to convey the impression of frowning, despite the fact that it was physically impossible for him to form that expression. "What should I expect? Back when I was around, we were dealing with the United Nations Security Council. Bickering, screaming, and not nearly as much actually getting done as there should have been, mostly on account of almost nobody being able to look beyond their own borders."

"I'm afraid that that's a fairly apt description of the current situation, save for the fact that there is no global organization, ever since the Global Defense Council broke up," Signas told him soberly. "We'll be meeting the rulers of the city-states themselves. _Most _of them have been democratically elected, but functioning as a single entity is beyond them. The only legal unity comes from most of them placing their nations under martial law, overseen by the Hunters, and I'm not exactly thrilled with that."

"Whatsa matter, don't want to rule the world?" Auto joked, though he was watching Signas' face carefully.

"No." Signas shook his head. "I never have. On the contrary, there are few things I dread more than that particular prospect. Unfortunately, it's looking more and more likely that those things will one day be my only alternatives. No, Auto, I don't... but I may not have a choice."

"Do what you have to," Auto told him seriously, all humor gone from his voice now. "That's the best advice I can give you. Whatever gets the job done, whatever saves our sorry asses, we're the poor schmucks who're gonna have to do it."

"It always comes down to that, doesn't it?" Signas agreed somberly. "I have been doing so ever since I was first appointed Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and I will continue to, as long as I live." He paused for a moment before continuing; he'd only known Auto for a very brief period of time, but he already knew that he could trust him. Of course, there was always the possibility of listening devices. "Prime Minister Kakei will be our most vocal critic, as he has been since this war began, but he'll fold when it's actually important."

"How sure are you of that?" Auto asked, glancing around meaningfully before looking back at Signas, who nodded.

"Absolutely," he told him with a straight face, even as he tapped his ear. "I've known Kakei for a very long time. He's predictable."

"Politics." Auto groaned in disgust. "I hated it a hundred years ago, and I still hate it now. Are you _sure _I have to do this? Couldn't you tell them I had to go kill something?"

"That would only be delaying the inevitable, I'm afraid," Signas told him. "I understand your feelings on the matter, believe me, but they're going to insist on meeting you at least once sooner or later. Best to get it over with."

"Yeah, I guess," Auto agreed, as they approached the doors of the meeting room. "I'll _try _to avoid causing an international incident."

"That would be appreciated," Signas told him dryly, deciding not to tell him it probably wouldn't be necessary; they could get away with more than ever before, but there was no point in testing that. He kept his face calm as they walked inside, where the leaders of the free world waited, most of them in person rather than holographic display now; more and more of them had accepted sanctuary in Tokyo as the war had continued. Only a few holdouts refused to leave their city-states, no matter how dire the situation grew.

King's presence among them, of course, was something new.

"Auto," the ruler of Mecha greeted him, rising from his seat. Though the humans gathered there had continued to refuse King's presence, once they had requested that Auto join them, they had acknowledged the hypocrisy of excluding a Robot Master who held stature equivalent to their own while admitting one who did not. "So, it is true."

"Yep." Auto nodded, crossing his arms. "Let's get one thing straight, Mr. Wily." Several other world leaders blanched at that particular term, but if Auto noticed-or cared-he didn't show it. "I still remember the Ninth. But I'm a realist. If we're on the same side this time around, I can work with that. We don't have to be friends to stand together. Fair enough?"

"More than," King agreed. "Very well."

"Cool." Auto looked around, seeming visibly unimpressed. "So. Who's in charge here?"

"That would be the Commander of the Maverick Hunters, who I believe you have already met," Kakei told him, standing, his face a carefully cultivated mask of polite neutrality. "Welcome, Mr. Light. We are pleased to have you join us."

"Speak for yourself, Kakei," President Arcian retorted contemptuously. "Personally, I'd have been happier if neither of these robots had been allowed in here, no matter who they claim to be."

"President Arcian, you-" Signas started to say, before Auto raised a hand towards him.

"Lemme handle this, boss," the Robot Master advised him, staring at the Frenchman. "You look familiar, pal. Don't suppose your name's Arcian?"

"It is," Arcian admitted readily. "Marcel Arcian, President of France. Is that supposed to be significant?"

"Only if you're related to a guy named Louis," Auto explained. "He was the UN Representative for your country back in my day, unfortunately for your country."

"Are you implying something about my grandfather?" Arcian bristled.

"Implying, hell." Auto snorted. "He was an asshole. Even _Darwin Vinkus_ thought he was. And it looks like it's genetic."

"You-" Arcian started to snarl.

"That will be _quite _enough, Auto," Signas interrupted, ignoring his sputtering and glaring at the Robot Master. "This is _not _why we have asked you to join us."

"He started it," Auto grumbled, but proceeded to the seat left for him between Signas and Kakei without further complaint.

"I will not-" Arcian continued to bluster.

"You heard the man, Arcian," Prime Minister Diefenbaker cut him off. "We're not here to waste time arguing like kids. We're here to figure out what our next move should be."

"Those of us who are still able to contribute at all," Prime Minister Shepherd added bitterly, staring at Auto. "So, this is who London was sacrificed for?"

"That's completely ridiculous!" President Largo yelled, as the rest of the room began shouting as well.

"The more things change..." Auto sighed, glancing at Signas. "You mind?"

"Silence!" Signas obligingly roared over them all. "Silence, all of you!" Once the clamoring had died down, he regarded Shepherd coldly. "Your accusation is as insulting as it is inaccurate, Prime Minister, and it forces me to be blunt. No power on heaven or earth could have saved your country, and to state otherwise not only demeans those who we were not able to save, but also those of my men who _gave _their lives in order to rescue as many of your citizens as possible, which I will not tolerate. London's loss was a tragedy, but none of those here were responsible."

Nobody responded to that for several moments, but the look on Shepherd's face made it clear his opinion was unchanged.

"It's all right, Signas," Auto told him somberly. "Nobody can be impartial after what just happened to his people the other day. I know that better than anybody. I remember how I felt after the same bastard responsible for that sent what we all thought was his final creation to kill us all... and succeeded with most of us." He bowed his head. "He killed my family, Prime Minister. Wily killed my brothers and sister, just like he massacred your people. I've been there too."

"Then what do we do now, Mr. Light?" Shepherd demanded, though some of the bite had faded from his voice. "What do we do, when there is nothing left to fight for?"

"There still is," Auto told him, a quiet sort of rage now audible as he spoke. "There's one thing you and me both still have left. Vengeance. We can't bring the people we've lost back, but we can still make the one who did it to them pay, him and all his flunkies. I'm not a hero, Prime Minister. I might be fighting to save the world, but I've got my own stake in this too, and it's a simple one. Wily. Dead. For good this time, and as painfully as possible. Do you think you could get behind that?"

"I believe so," Shepherd agreed, looking at the Robot Master in a new light now; he wasn't quite smiling, but he wasn't scowling any more, either. "Your words have merit, Mr. Light."

"Normally, vengeance as a matter of global policy is forbidden by mutual agreement," Largo reminded them all. "However, these are abnormal circumstances, and the enemy we face even moreso." He turned his gaze upon Auto carefully. "We have asked you to join us as an adviser, Mr. Light, and it would be more than slightly foolish to discount your opinion after doing so. Is that what you advise, then? A policy of vengeance?"

"I wouldn't use that term," Auto disagreed. "Like I said, that's just my stake in this. Those of you who still have something else to fight for might want to look at it as reality, plain and simple. They're not going to stop. They're not going to change their minds. They're not going to go away. The only way for humanity, reploidkind, and Robot Masters to make it out of this is if the other side _doesn't_. They're not giving us any other options. Either they die, or we do. If you want to call it anything, you might as well call it a policy of survival."

"And you believe that this possibility remains feasible?" Kakei demanded. "Despite the odds against us?"

"We're still here, ain't we?" Auto shrugged. "There's always a chance, gentlemen. My big brother Rock believed in that his entire life. He never gave up, not for a second, and I'm not going to either." He looked around the room, from one face to another. "If you want my advice, then that's what it is. Believe in those of us who're still fighting." He waved a claw towards Signas first, and then King. "These guys, and everybody who follows them, myself included. Trust them, and help them, however you can. _They're _our last hope. For your survival, and my vengeance, both."

"Very well," Premier Li murmured, watching Auto speculatively, her thoughts a mystery to Signas. "We shall do as you advise. So speaks China." Other affirmations followed hers, some confident and others reluctant, but they came nonetheless.

And Signas smiled, and nodded, as the day he dreaded came ever closer.

**June 12, 2186, 10:00 PM **

**Maverick City **

They watched in silence, him and her, him in his chair and her hovering behind him, the starry night shining through behind them in his office. After the first time, it had been days before he'd been able to persuade her to materialize her image again, and even then, only to his eyes; none of the other Mavericks could see her, even his generals. Once she'd started doing it again, however, it had been happening more and more often, usually whenever something caught her interest; it was almost as if it happened without her even being aware of it, in such situations.

The moment at hand supported that theory more than slightly. There was no question at all of what she was focusing on at the moment, the exact same thing that had him watching without a word. Footage of the defense of Beijing, focused on one enemy in particular, one who had only just now joined the war, but who they recognized regardless. A gigantic Robot Master, green and gray, with massive clamps at the end of his arms. His face was crude, obviously mechanical, but his expression clearly showed his thoughts regardless as he mowed down Mavericks with automatic gunfire.

"**It's **_**him,**_" she said finally, one skeletal arm resting on his shoulder as she watched the footage, her lipless mouth grinning. "**One of them is **_**back**_**. He's still **_**alive**_**. I **_**want **_**him, Sigma. He's **_**mine**_**. Count on it.**"

"Should I be feeling jealousy, my dear Mab?" He asked, grinning as well; he didn't have the same personal interest in the fourth child of Light as she did, but he could _feel _her emotions brushing up against his own ever-so-slightly now, and he couldn't help but enjoy it whenever she was this invested in something.

"**I told you not to be disgusting like that,**" she snarled, turning her head to glare at him. Only then did she notice what she was doing, and with a snort, she pulled away before the image vanished, leaving her voice in his mind. **You're lucky I'm in a good mood, but I advise you not to push it. **

"Perhaps," Sigma murmured, before returning to the previous point of discussion; as much as he enjoyed annoying her with his interpretation of their relationship, one that was unlike any other the world had ever seen, he didn't want to ruin her mood just yet. "I must confess, I don't quite entirely understand your meaning. He's a Robot Master, not a reploid. You couldn't infect him if you tried." He waited a moment, then shut the recording off. "Or could you?"

**Not yet,** she admitted after a grudging few moments of silence of her own. **But I think, perhaps, soon I will be able to. My power is still growing, still changing. Remind me to ask my father about that; he would know. And even if I can't, I **_**will**_** still at least be able to kill him. That would be almost as good. **

"Why?" Sigma asked mildly. "I don't quite see your rationale. What makes him more special than, say, King? Or Pharaoh Man, perhaps?"

**Why do you care? **She demanded suspiciously. **What concern is it of yours? **

"I care because _you _care, Mab," he told her honestly. "Now, don't get excited. It is my duty, as your Prime Maverick, to serve your will in every possible way. I simply wish to understand that will so that I might better be able to, in this particular circumstance, since it seems so important to you."

**I'm sure, **she said sarcastically. She was silent for some time then, and he waited patiently, until she continued, her tone much more subdued. **Because he is a child of Light. Because he is **_**his **_**son. My father's nemesis. Because their rivalry gave him motivation in life. I was created to end them, one and all. **

"You still wish to carry out that first command he gave you, so long ago," Sigma realized aloud, still smiling. "Truly, you are a dutiful daughter."

**Sigma... **she warned him.

"I was serious," he protested mildly. "I meant it. But if you'd prefer not to talk about it, very well. Let's see what else is happening, shall we?"

**We could go kill people, **she suggested. **There's always that.**

"Perhaps, but it's a bit late for that," he pointed out. "I should probably go into stasis soon. We'll do that tomorrow." He thought about it as he went through several different security cameras, until stopping on the one that displayed footage from the Generals' lounge, on one of the upper floors of the Sigma Building. "Hm. This might be interesting." Almost everybody was there; the only exceptions were Bit, Byte, and Dynamo. Thinking of the latter reminded him of something he'd been meaning to ask about. "Dynamo isn't there. Curious. How has he been handling infection?"

**The same as ever, **Mab said suspiciously. **I still keep expecting him to try and break free of my control, but he has yet to make the attempt. On the contrary, he's been enjoying himself. **

"That _does _sound like Dynamo," Sigma agreed, carefully filing that thought away for further contemplation. "Where is he, then?"

**Up on the roof, posing dramatically in case anybody sees him, while he contemplates his existence, **she told him. **Ironically, or at least that's what he tells himself. Why? **

"I like to keep track of that one," he explained, partially honestly. "Just to be on the safe side." Fortunately, before she could continue along that line of inquiry, the door of the lounge opened and the two missing brothers joined their contemporaries, having been rebuilt after their deaths in London a week ago. "Ah, here we go."

"Hey, guys," Violen hailed them, looking over his shoulder; he, Agile and Serges were all sitting in a circle of armchairs around a projector, though nothing was playing at the moment. "About time you came back. How's it going?"

"We have failed," Byte told them somberly. "Our presence in London lasted less than an hour."

"Straight down the crapper, huh?" Agile said cheerfully. "Yeah, that'll happen sometimes."

"It is inexcusable," Bit disagreed, shaking his head. "We are reporting to Lord Sigma, in order to confess our failure."

"We will accept any punishment he chooses to bestow on us for our disgrace," Byte continued. "We have shamed the Mavericks on this day."

Violen, Serges and Agile exchanged a long look, while the others in the room remained silent; whatever they had been discussing before the brothers had joined them, it was forgotten.

"Guys..." Violen sighed heavily, putting a massive hand to his face. "Look..."

"Don't put it that way, okay?" Serges broke in while his simian friend grasped for his minimal vocabulary. "If you say it like that... well, he'll pretty much _have_ to do something horrible to you, just to save face with the Virus, and he'll be even more pissed off that you put him on the spot like that, so it'll suck even more. Just say you botched it, give him the details without any suggestions, and let _him _decide, huh?"

"But we _failed_," Byte argued, sounding baffled. "This is inarguable."

"Why should we not be punished for our ineptitude?" Bit asked, looking just as confused. "It is the Maverick way."

"You had a run of hard luck." Agile shook his head. "It was X, wasn't it? Or Zero? _Nobody_ could stand against them except the boss. There's a _reason_ he tells us to clear out after giving them a scrap instead of fighting to the death, these days."

"Cowardice?" Bit blinked. "From _you_, Agile? Has your control chip been damaged?"

"It's not cowardice, you idiot," Serges snapped before Agile could respond to that. "It's _logic_. Those two freaks of nature have _never_ lost a fight to _any _of us except the boss. Not. One. Single. Time. You think he expects you two to magically turn that around? Yeah, I don't _think _so. Like Agile said, you got unlucky, and X or Zero showed. Unless it was _both_ of them, in which case he'll be happy you managed to get _anything_ done. Go over there, tell him what happened, let him decide what to do about it. Plain and simple, which is what you two are all about."

"We still failed," Byte argued stubbornly.

"_Everybody_ fails against those two," Violen told them, just as obstinately. "Trust us, he won't be surprised. Look, just trust us on this one, okay? If we're wrong, it'll be the same anyways, right?"

"They have a point," Doctor Doppler chimed in from a nearby couch, where he'd been going over something on a datapad. "What have you got to lose?"

"I like how they think they have any secrets from us," Sigma murmured. "It's amusing."

**Slightly, **Mab conceded grudgingly. **But not enough to make it excusable. **

"Now, now, don't go spoiling it just yet," he suggested, standing. "Let's have some fun with them, shall we?"

**Perhaps, **she said noncommittally. **What do you suggest? **

"You three..." Byte murmured, watching them carefully. "You are different, from the rest of us."

"They are," Bit agreed, as the two of them walked over to another couch and sat down. "It's completely illogical, not to mention ridiculous."

"Perhaps." Byte slowly nodded. "Then again... perhaps not. We will try your advice. As Doppler says, it is not as if we have anything to lose, at this point."

"If this gets any more cloying, I think I'll vomit," Fluid Ferret grumbled from where he sat in a corner, playing some violent game on an antique handheld device.

"I suggest we join them, and see if they have the nerve to continue their conversation once they _know _we're listening," Sigma explained as he walked away. "Can you allow me to hear what they're saying on my way down?"

**I can do more than that, **she boasted. A moment later, something happened that was new to him; it was as if he possessed _eighteen _eyes, rather than two, each pair looking at something different. He could see through those of his generals in the lounge, even as his own showed him the doors he was approaching; somehow, he was able to continue walking through them towards the elevator without becoming confused.

"Ignore him," Doppler told the trio. "Now I'm curious. Byte and Bit are right."

"Are you sure we can't just go with Ferret's opinion?" Agile groaned. "What, did you want to write a paper on the power of _friendship?_ Gag me with my own saber."

"You admit it, then," Byte pressed them. "That you are friends."

"Ugh." Serges made a face. "Do you _have _to put it that way? You _know _we can't actually deny it."

"Your abilities _are _increasing," Sigma murmured, taking the elevator down a floor. "I'm impressed."

**After everything else I have done, **_**this **_**impresses you? **Mab asked him, voice dripping with sarcasm to hide how he could tell she actually felt about the praise. **You might as well get used to it, then. I'm almost there. Whatever it is I am becoming, I can **_**feel **_**it. Just a little more, and then... **_**then, **_**I'll truly be able to show you why I am my father's greatest creation. **

"Yes, yes, we know, but _why_?" Doppler rolled his eyes. "Or more specifically, _how_? How did you three manage to maintain enough of your original personas to develop camaraderie, if you never even met before you went Maverick? I don't need to tell you that that's a _very_ unusual development, Serges. Mavericks have a hard enough time maintaining pre-existing emotional connections. Creating _new_ ones should have been downright impossible."

Now the three former X-Hunters were silent, all traces of joking vanished. They sat there for a few moments, frowning in thought as they mulled over Doppler's question. Finally, Serges answered.

"I think..." He said slowly. "It might have been because... right at first, and hell, for the whole time as far as me and Violen knew... we were on our own. We didn't have Sigma running the show behind the scenes, or anybody else bossing us around, either. As far as we knew, we were _it_. Sigma's successors. Which made us responsible for all Mavericks, everywhere. The fate of the movement rested on the shoulders of our triumvirate, and it _was _a triumvirate. None of the three of us were 'in charge,' no matter how many shithead historians come up with some crackpot theory about me or Agile."

"You notice none of them ever try claiming it was _you_ in charge of it all, big guy?" Agile asked Violen, his usual humor returning as fast as it had departed.

"No, I don't," Violen replied. "Hello? Earth to Agile? Do I _look_ like I watch the history channel?"

"Be glad you don't," Serges scoffed. "One time I saw some conspiracy wacko claiming _I_ was the boss's partner, just because I kind of _look _like him in a dim light. If the old man actually _was_ trying to stay undercover, would the concept of a different face be beyond him? Christ on a crapper."

"Actually, with the boss's partner, I wouldn't be so sure," Ferret snarked.

"Point."

"So, what you're saying..." Byte said, frowning even more deeply than usual. "Is that it was a sense of social responsibility that led to your development of camaraderie?"

"Pretty much." Agile nodded. "You all know what it's like, most of the time. If we didn't force ourselves to learn to tolerate each others' presences, we'd have torn each other apart, and that would have been that for the movement." He laughed then, sudden and jerky. "Hell, we almost did anyways! You remember how many times you had to stop me and Serges from gutting each other, Violen?"

"A hundred and sixteen," Violen groaned. "And if _I_ can remember a number, you _know_ it was bad."

"_Violen_ played peacekeeper?" Bit remarked incredulously.

"Everything is relative," Byte told him.

"Stupid," Double said, speaking for the first time, and everybody turned to him. He was leaning on the arm of his chair, glaring out a window. "It's stupid, is what it is. You're sounding like those goodie-goodie Hunters. Emotional bonds? Camaraderie? Friendship? Don't make me puke. It's _weakness_, is what it is, and the three of you are making a joke of yourselves by trying to perpetuate it. Mavericks are supposed to be _beyond_ that kind of tripe."

"Can't believe I'm agreeing with _you,_" Ferret muttered.

"Double, you..." Violen started to growl.

"I'll give you weakness, you little..." Agile snarled, at the exact same time. They both paused, staring at each other.

"That a fact?" Serges said before either of them could recover, anger audible in his voice as well, but tinged with a contempt that lent it restraint. "Then here's something for you to chew on, mister lone wolf. If you ever tried taking a swipe at any of the three of us, the way you did to Doppler that one time, _all_ three of us would promptly pound you into grape-flavored jello. Sure, you could probably take Violen or Agile one-on-one, and I'd be roadkill, especially without any of my gear. But all of us, at once? You could have three of _you_, and you'd _still_ got your collective ass _or_ asses handed to you."

Before anybody could say anything to that, Sigma reached the lounge. Everybody jumped, even Double, as he opened the doors, their thoughts obvious even if Mab wasn't sharing _that _much with him; if they were all there already, there was only two more Mavericks who it could possibly be, and none of them were the kinds of reploids who hoped for the best possible outcome.

"Sir!" Ferret saluted. "We were-"

"Relax," Sigma told them, walking past them without a glance, as his sight and hearing returned to normal now that Mab's assistance was no longer necessary. "It's fine. I just felt like watching a movie. Continue your discussion." Nobody spoke, or even moved, as he sat down in a chair facing away from them and turned on the projector in front of it, flipping through channels like any nine-to-five office worker coming home to a burger and a six-pack. After a few moments, he continued, and now he made his voice a more familiar snarl. "I said _keep talking_."

"An interesting social hypothesis," Doppler said quickly; as Sigma had expected, none of them wanted to risk the chance that he'd _know _if they were lying to him about what they'd been discussing before. "Your fighting prowess _does_ rise significantly when teamwork is employed between the three of you. Double has a point as well, however. Should any of the three of you be slain, wouldn't your emotional involvement then serve to reduce the combat abilities of the other two?"

"Not likely!" Violen scoffed. "You should have seen Serges after X broke me in half the first time. You want Maverick wrath? He could have torn apart _ride armor_ with his bare hands, and that's with those tiny little arms of his."

"Not that it did me much good, against X," Serges muttered, looking away. "Just as much vengeful fury as him, and he still carved my ass like a horror flick."

"Yeah, but that was X," Agile pointed out. "Any other Hunter in existence except Zero, past, present or future, you'd have been using their skull as a puppet and turning their spinal column into a walking stick, you screwy geezer." He scowled. "Besides, at least you tried. I was so fried on the Virus by then I didn't even care any more." He glanced at Sigma quickly, as if anticipating punishment for that remark, but their leader simply continued to watch his movie, acting as if he were oblivious.

"Would I have cared, if we had been slain separately, brother?" Byte asked Bit, looking unusually worried.

"I... what?" Bit blinked. "I never wondered about that before. I... I don't think I would have, so you probably wouldn't, either. But... we're brothers. That's not right."

"This is sickening," Double muttered, but he kept his voice low this time, and the others ignored him, continuing their discussion. And over in the corner of the room, Sigma sat in his chair, eyes on the projector, but only paying half attention to the movie; despite his apparent nonchalance, he was listening to every word his underlings said.

**Why won't you let me punish them?** Mab's voice seethed in his mind. **Double is right. They're growing weak. The only affection a Maverick should have is for **_**us**_**, and for the carnage itself. Anything else that occupies their thoughts will only distract them at best, and at worst it will make them useless to us. You should let me do what we did to Agile, the last time.**

_No, _Sigma thought back, shaking his head slightly. _That was a mistake. _That _was what crippled Agile. Had he _wanted _to win that fight, with every fiber of his being, in order to avenge his comrades, he might have seen X's Shoryuken coming and dodged it in time. We chose these eight _because _they were different from all the others. Because they had the potential for more than just mindless bloodlust, even while infected, without losing any of their effectiveness. Because they had the potential to _grow. _To _evolve. _Isn't that concept __dear__ to your black, ghostly heart? _

**This is **_**not**_** growth,** she snarled. **This is regression.**__

_How easy it is to mistake the two,_ Sigma thought, mock-mournfully, and he smiled as he sensed her rage increase; it was when she was most furious that he felt closest to her. _The difference between our perspectives is that you are only concerned with the here and now, whereas I am playing the long game. For the first time in my endless life, I'm looking beyond even the conflict. _

**What else is there to look ahead to, beyond conflict?** The Virus asked, baffled now.

_Victory, _Sigma explained. _When we win this, we will eradicate all traces of life from this planet that do not belong to us, heart and soul. Until __this war began__, I never thought about what that would actually _entail_. Now, though... if the Mavericks remain as you would have them, then when no other enemy remains for them to slaughter, they will turn upon themselves like the Ouroboros of legend, and the snake shall devour itself entirely. A pyrrhic victory at best, one of mindless self-destruction. No. Those eight, over there, are our future. A Maverick society that can actually _function_. _

Mab remained silent then, for some time, as she considered his argument. When she spoke to him again, then, her voice was more sarcastic than furious. **How very noble of ****y****ou to be so concerned for the future of your subjects, o King of the Damned. I find myself so impressed by your wisdom, I would ask of ****you**** another question, one that baffles me, even now.**

_But of course,_ Sigma replied, chuckling slightly, which he knew would gather odd looks from the Mavericks behind him; it was tempting to turn and see them staring, but he kept his attention on the projector. _How could I ever refuse such a request from my Queen? Ask, then, and I shall answer._

**Why in the name of James Cain's rotting ass are we watching **_**Shakespeare**_**?**__She erupted.

_To irritate you_. Sigma's smile widened.

The mind-numbing, excruciating pain that wracked his body and left him in a screaming heap on the floor was entirely worth it.

**June 15, 2186, Noon **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"All right, bring it in!" Douglas shouted as he waved the approaching hovertransport into the MHHQ's garage. The supply shipment was running late today, but that was hardly unusual, ever since the beginning of the war; conditions everywhere had been growing worse and worse, enough that the Hunters were willing to forgive what they would have objected to before. "Trouble out there again, Charlie?"

"You know it, Douglas," the vehicle's driver, a burly middle-aged human he'd known for years, agreed. "Another batch of doomsday prophets. They're out there blockading traffic. Had to back up and go around them."

"Christ, _more _of those?" Douglas groaned. "And local law enforcement hasn't cleared it up? Criminey. I'd offer to ask a couple of the boys to go out and deal with it, but those ones are the type who aren't afraid to test the fact that we're not allowed to hurt humans."

"I figured as much, or else I'd have already asked," Charlie said with a shrug, setting the first pallet of supplies down in a corner. "There we go."

"Take it the rest's out there in the truck?" Douglas guessed, already opening up the first box. Glancing inside, he scowled. "Hey, what the hell! This is only half full! What is this, Charlie?"

"Sorry, Douglas." Charlie paused in the process of backing the hovertransport up. "That's all there was. All there _is_. In that box _and _on that load. The boys at the warehouse did the best they could. We only charged you for what I brought, don't worry."

"Damn." Douglas sighed, walking over to him. He didn't need to ask for further clarification; he already knew why. The energy shortage was another thing that had only grown worse as the war had increased, and the remaining city-states had struggled to cope with the increased burdens brought by refugees from those nations already destroyed by enemy forces. Tokyo in particular had tripled its population number, and though the people had managed to cope with the necessary reductions so far, it was anybody's guess how long that would last. "Oh well. Thanks anyway, Charlie."

"Might want to let your boss know," Charlie suggested, handing over a datapad for Douglas to sign. "He might have more sway with _my _bosses than us grunts on the floor level."

"Worth a shot, huh?" Douglas replied, scrawling his signature as he mentally weighed the pros and cons of such an action; as loath as he was to add to his Commander's stress levels, which were already through the roof, lack of proper materials was a serious problem for all of the Hunters as much as his own staff. "This going to be a regular thing?"

"No promises, but I wouldn't get my hopes up," Charlie told him, shaking his head. "See you around, Douglas. Assuming neither of us gets killed first."

"You and your optimism," Douglas joked, lowering the garage door before going back to the pallet. Opening up a few more boxes confirmed that most, if not all, of the load was as reduced as the first had been. Shaking his head in disgust, he waved a couple of his men over to finish up and walked off to find something that would put him in a better mood. Fortunately, there was one option readily at hand; hearing the telltale sounds of heavy machinery at work, he followed over towards the workbench that had been given to the 17th Unit's newest member.

"Hey, Douglas!" Auto called without looking up from his current project. "Shipment come in?"

"Yeah, but it looks like we only got about half as much as we ordered," Douglas told him, walking over. "We're just lucky the matter synthesizers can make the simple stuff. Still, not a good sign."

"No kidding," Auto grunted. "Things are going that bad, huh?"

"Worse, from what I hear." Hopping onto a nearby crate, Douglas stared at his feet, idly kicking them in the air. "Energy shortages... Maverick recruitment offices... Australia projected to go down by September... death rates at the highest they've been since World War III... and then there's the NHS."

"As if four horsemen weren't enough," Auto said sourly. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But look at it this way. If you and me become cynics like the rest, then who'll be left to keep _any _optimism going?"

"Margravine and Viscount, maybe," Douglas suggested, thinking about it. "That's about it, at this point." He shrugged. "Eh, it'd never last anyways. Wouldn't know how if I tried." Hopping down, he walked over as Auto finished up. "So, whatcha whip up for us today?"

"Upgraded model of Corbun's Energy Balancer," Auto explained, beaming at a metal cube the size of an apple. "Reploid version."

"Oh, I heard about those things!" Flipping up both sets of lenses attached to his helmet, Douglas looked it over. "They're standard issue for Mecha's people, but even the man himself was never able to get one that would work for reploids. If we can mass-produce these babies, they should come in handy, all right. Especially since everybody's using the Master Weapons System now."

"Blueprints are over there." Auto jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards a desk that was already a mess. "Somewhere." He stood. "I'll show 'em to you in a bit. The boss has _another _meeting. At least this one's not with the politicos."

"Oh geez, is it time for that already?" Douglas glanced at a nearby terminal. "Looks like it. But hey, this one's actually going to be _important_."

"So I hear," Auto groused as they walked out together. "I just hate 'em. Guess it makes sense since I'm part of an organization and all now. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Old military saying," Douglas told him. "They can take away everything else, but they can't take away your right to bitch about it."

"Ha!" Auto barked. "Damn straight."

It wasn't far from the garage to the dead room where the top brass conducted their meetings, though they were no longer held every morning at the same time; it wasn't often that all of the Unit Captains could make it back from where they were stationed around the globe. Today was one of the few in which nobody anticipated any trouble, at least for the time being, though Alia had given her Navigators standing orders to interrupt them at a moment's notice if the enemy attacked any of the remaining city-states.

Even with everybody there, it was a smaller group than before the war, and more subdued. Some of the faces there were relatively new ones, appointed to Captain of their Units to replace former leaders who had been killed in action; these tended to remain quiet during these meetings, only speaking rarely. Other chairs were empty, Pitbull's the most recent; with the obliteration of the entire 13th Unit, there was nobody left to take the seat and the responsibility it held. Nobody had ever asked Commander Signas if he was planning on replacing the Units that had been completely destroyed as he had before the war, and nobody was going to, Douglas least of all; he knew the answer already.

"Douglas," the leader of the Maverick Hunters greeted them as they walked in; they were the last ones there, arriving exactly on time. "Auto." Once they were seated, Douglas in his usual chair between Alia-who was sitting closer to X than usual, he noted approvingly-and the empty seat that had once belonged to Sargesso, and Auto at the foot of the table, Signas continued. "Gentlemen, we are approaching the point of no return. We have held out this long, but every day that passes brings us closer to the end of everything. We _must _develop a strategy to turn this war around, and soon."

"An admirable sentiment, Commander, but how?" Lassiter, sitting across from Douglas, asked somberly. "That much hasn't changed, despite how much else may have. We're still ridiculously outnumbered, and we still have no way of actually winning that is even remotely feasable. What else _can _we do, but defend ourselves for as long as we are able?"

"We fight back, that's what," Helen growled. "That's not a winning strategy. If we want to actually come out of this alive, instead of just delaying the inevitable for as long as possible, we're going to have to go on the offensive. Maybe we'll go down trying, but that's still better than just sitting around waiting for them to finish us off one place at a time."

"What would you suggest?" Serris asked her, shaking his head. "Attacking the Devil's Sea? Suicide. And Maverick City would be even worse. We never had any hope of taking either of those at the beginning of the war, let alone now."

"We could start small," Javier suggested, cutting her off even as she started to retort angrily, and Douglas suddenly realized just how heavily the stress of the situation had been wearing on all three. The siege of Australia had lasted longer than any other, thanks to Delta Force's defense, but the walls were all but done for, and everybody knew it. "Even if we don't directly attack their capitals, they've been occupying and rebuilding at other places. Supply dumps, factories, bases and outposts. It wouldn't stop them, but it would slow them down."

"We've been refraining from doing so until now, due to the discrepancy in our numbers," Signas said, rubbing his chin in thought. "However, we have now reached the point where any gamble can only benefit us, as loath as I am to admit that regardless of circumstances. Perhaps it is time to start taking more risks. And if we are successful, Sigma and Wily may pull more of their men away from their attacks in order to defend such locations, slowing the pace of our destruction further. I'll bring it up to King the next time I see him."

"That still doesn't address the real issue, though," Lassiter reminded them. "Slowing them down is good. But how do we _stop _them? How do we _end _this war?" Nobody had any answers for him, and after an awkward silence, Lifesaver spoke.

"If we knew, we would have already tried," he said quietly. "That's the long and short of it. We've lasted this long, but we still don't have an actual solution. We don't have any idea how to stop them. We have nothing."

"How do we win?" Auto growled, and everybody turned to look at him; he'd been silent so far, unusually for him, enough so that Douglas had almost forgotten he was there. Leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, the Robot Master looked down the table towards Signas. "I'll tell you how we win. We kill Wily. That's how. That's the only possible way for us to come out of this on top. We take him out, and the Faithful will fall apart."

"Oh, come now," Lifesaver scoffed. "It's hardly that simple. The loss of a leader does not automatically mean that of those who... follow... him..." He trailed off, eyes widening.

"Unless they are completely incapable of functioning without his leadership," Alia finished for him. "The Faithful believe he's God. They probably have from the moment of their activation, each and every one. He designed them specifically with that in mind. An army of fanatical devotees, all willing to die for his whims. An effective means of controlling them absolutely, but it comes with its downsides as well, mainly in resting everything on his own shoulders. Remove him from the situation, and they won't _have _a successor, or a backup plan."

"It's the way he thinks, isn't it?" X guessed, looking at his elder brother. "Nobody else matters except for himself. The Faithful, the Disciples, the Mavericks, even Sigma... they're just his latest set of toy soldiers, just like back in your day when he went through a new set of Robot Masters every few years."

"Bingo." Auto nodded. "That's _why _this is the only way. You guys have been focusing on the problem rather than the solution. The Faithful and the Mavericks outnumber us so badly, you've been thinking, 'how do we beat _them_,' instead of, 'how do we beat _him_.' He's the source of all this. The cause. The root of this war, and everything that led up to it. One man who's been contaminating the world with his existence for more than a hundred years now. Doctor Wily. We want to stop this, we have to kill him. I can't say it any more plain and simple than that."

"You think we haven't tried before?" Rip from the 7th asked sourly. "Dozens of times? It's the simplest solution, but it never worked. He just warped away, every time. Don't ask me how he knew, but he did, and poof. Gone with the wind."

"Didn't say it would be easy." Auto snorted. "Hell no. Of _course _we're going to have to come up with some sort of actual plan. But it can be done."

"The first step would be to prevent him from escaping," Signas said, and Douglas recognized the look in his eyes. "The matter of his personal war machine aside, warp technology is the largest hurdle we face in that regard."

"We've tried trapping him inside an electromagnetic bubble," Lassiter reminded them. "It didn't work. He figured it out before we got it up."

"We should probably assume that that's not going to change," X told them, shaking his head. "Controlling information was always one of his greatest strengths. I doubt he can get in _here_, but as long as we're fighting him anywhere where there's satellite coverage, he'll be able to see whatever it is we're doing. In other words, whatever it is we hit him with, it has to be something he _can't _do anything to get away from."

"Like what?" Helen scowled. "An EM bubble over an entire continent or something? Even I know that ain't gonna work."

"Not a continent," Douglas said slowly, as an idea began to form in his mind. "Even if we could make it work, he'd just warp to the edge and fly through it. No, we need something that'll stop him from going anywhere... anywhere and _everywhere._ We need to shut down warp technology itself. Globally and permanently."

"You're joking," Serris replied flatly, as everybody else stared. "You _are _joking, aren't you? That's ridiculous. It's impossible."

"So are a lot of other things we've seen in this war," Alia backed him up. "Mostly coming from the other side. But we've started pulling a few impossibilities out of our own hats recently. I can't see how keeping that up could work against us."

"Do you have an idea how this could be done, Douglas?" Signas asked, looking intrigued now.

"I think so," he said cautiously. "I'm working this out as I go along, but in theory... what we need is a randomized network of electromagnetic fields covering the entire atmosphere. Not the bubble shape that we all use for barriers. A three-dimensional net. A constantly shifting maze, unpredictable and omnipresent. No more warping. For anybody. Ever again. It'll have its downsides, I'll admit, but they'll affect the bad guys just as much as us... and it'll stop Wily's usual getaway cold. Once he can't warp off any more, we'll be able to corner him."

"You realize this will change everything about this war," Lassiter said, his voice neutral. "If we can't warp anywhere, any of us... and neither can the enemy... hell, not just this war. You'll set civilization back by decades."

"If we don't win this war, old friend, there won't _be _a civilization left," Simon pointed out lightly. "Not unless you count Maverick City. I certainly don't."

"We'll have time to prepare," Signas murmured. "Something of this magnitude can't be done overnight. Not even close. Before we actually activate whatever device would generate this network, we would make sure our troops were deployed to account for the aftermath, whereas the enemy would be caught completely off guard. It won't be enough to turn the balance of the war in our favor, but if we press them, and don't let up... if this is possible..." He met Douglas' eyes. "Can you do it?"

"We can," Douglas sad firmly, glancing at Auto, who nodded as well. "Not sure yet how, but I know we can."

"Not just one device," the Robot Master added. "Several. Generators that we set up so that they cover the entire sky, and not from below. We go into space. Head up onto all those satellites cluttering up the place, and put 'em there. Set up EM bubbles around them to keep anybody from warping there from outside of Earth's atmosphere, and rig up some defenses set to kill anybody or anything that comes close. Plenty of those old tin turkeys still have operational guns. Get 'em running again, do the rest, and nobody's getting up there. Ever."

"They'd just shoot 'em down from dirtside," Javier argued.

"There are ways around that," Rip chimed in. "Give 'em shields, and big enough guns that they can fire back and take out anybody who tries. Yeah, I know, it'd be a bad idea in a movie, but if we program them _only _to fire when fired _upon_, it should be fine." He paused. "Well, no. No, it won't be fine. It'll still be taking a risk. But like Simon said earlier, we lose this one, there's nothing left _to _risk anyways. Call it the lesser of two evils."

"Not just movies," X reminded him. "Before your time, we had to put a stop to that threat ourselves. The Repliforce Uprising. And now we're going to make that threat a reality again, willingly. Ironic."

"Can people warp into space?" Helen asked. "You weren't able to, back then, were you?"

"No, but the Final Weapon was further away than most satellites," X told her. "I'm pretty sure it's been done before."

"It has," Auto confirmed. "Our big bro Rock did it more than once. Hell, one time he even warped to the _moon_."

"Even so, this is going to take time," Douglas warned them. "And the enemy will be able to detect the warp signatures when the guys we send to set up the generators take off. We'll have to do something to keep them from catching on and following them there to crash the party."

"A distraction." Signas said firmly. "In reverse. We will make it seem as if that _is _the distraction, and 'allow' them to catch on to our 'real' objective first. Of the enemy targets aside from Maverick City and the Devil's Sea, let us determine which would be the most advantageous to destroy, and then save that one for when we carry out this plan. In the meantime, we will proceed with harassing other locations in order to slow their progress, as was previously suggested. Once they allocate more resources towards defending them, we will stop."

"And then we have the setup teams warp back and forth from space, repeatedly," Alia continued. "As a 'distraction' from that day's 'true' objective... and once they're aware of that, they'll lose interest in our so-called distraction until it's too late."

"I'll have my boys do practice runs in the simulator," Douglas told them. "Getting these toys up and running as quickly as possible. If we can't get it down to under an hour by the time we're ready to go, I'll eat my helmet."

"We can do this," X said, quietly but firmly, and something in his voice made them all look at him. "We can make this happen. It'll be difficult, but not impossible."

"All right, but what happens after step one?" Helen demanded. "So we stop the old bastard from warping. What then?"

"That, we will not know until after we have completed this phase," Signas admitted, frowning. "We will have to prepare multiple contingency plans, based upon where Wily is when this occurs. My greatest concern is that even if we kill him, he will simply return to life in a new body, like his Faithful. Lifesaver, have you learned how it is they do that?"

"Not yet," the medic admitted. "Doctor Hazil and I plan on dissecting Hellbat Schilt's carcass soon. Hopefully, I will have an answer for you then."

"He won't," Auto said firmly. "However the hell they do that, Wily won't have it."

"How can you be sure?" X asked him, sounding more curious than contradictory.

"Because I _know _him," Auto explained, looking from one face to another as if daring them to disagree. "I know who he is. I know how he thinks. I know why he does the things he does. And I know what he truly is, beneath it all. His true nature. He's a coward. Beneath all the smoke and mirrors, all the plans and plots and schemes and shadows... he's afraid of dying. Even if he _thought _he'd be able to come back after death, he'd never get up the nerve to actually go through with it. That's one contingency he'll never so much as plan for. He won't even accept the possibility."

"He came back before," Alia said slowly. "But that was against his will, wasn't it? He didn't plan it. I highly doubt he used the same method his Disciples are. If we kill him a second time... it might just stick."

"Even if it does, we'll still have the Mavericks to deal with," Signas reminded them all. "This is not a perfect solution. We still have much to do, and little hope of success." And then he smiled coldly, his eyes glinting. "But it is a beginning. And it is well past time we went on the offensive. All in favor?"

The vote was unanimous.

**July 11, 2186, 5:00 PM **

**New Shirewick, the Antarctic Colonies **

"All right, they're breaking!" Zero yelled as he pulled his saber from the chest of his most recent kill. The latest Maverick assault had failed, just like every one before it, and the enemy knew it; screaming curses and threats, they'd began their retreat, trailed by cries of victory and mocking catcalls. "Let 'em go, but keep firing after 'em so they don't turn around again! Let's head back, people! We're exposed out here!"

The latest assault had began half an hour ago. Hundreds of Mavericks, berserk and bloodthirsty, had come charging out of their ranks with a Rogumer-class gunship hovering overhead to try and open up the south gate. Fortunately, the 17th Unit and two dozen Robot Masters from Mecha, with himself at their head, had been ready for them. The two forces had collided before the gate, and after a brief and bloody period of fighting, the enemy had flinched first, the few survivors turning tail and fleeing to safety.

Once they'd made sure the Mavericks weren't going to be returning-at least, not immediately-the Hunters and Robot Masters made their own retreat, back through the gate they'd emerged from, still standing for one more day. Zero came last, having taken the time to dash after the Mavericks and cut one more down before following his men. His second-in-command was near the back as well, a serious, practical Hard Man who went by the self-deprecating name of Lunkhead; despite his curiosity, Zero had yet to ask him just why he'd chosen it.

"That went about as well as it could, I guess," he said, speaking both to Lunkhead and to the 17th's two-no, three now-top men, all of which were at the back of the crowd with them. "We lose anybody today, Lunkhead?"

"A few of the boys took some hits, but nothing serious from what I've heard," the large Robot Master-though he looked much smaller next to the green giant standing only a few feet away-grunted. "None dead, at any rate."

"If only we could be that lucky every day," X muttered quietly, raising a fist to Zero, who bumped it with his own. "Were we today, at least, Arvis?"

"Think so," his second-in-command replied laconically. "Worst I heard was Kinjo. Think he lost an arm, but that should be the worst of it. Already got that medic of Lifesaver's-whatsisname again, Klondike or something-looking at him."

"Damn." X frowned. "I'd better go see how he's doing. Talk to you later, guys." As the gate shut behind them, he ran off, Arvis following along at a somewhat more sedate pace.

"I should go check up on our own people," Lunkhead said, carefully not looking at the other Robot Master, pretending not to be uncomfortable with his presence, though the haste with which he walked off spoke otherwise.

"You'd think they'd be used to you by now," Zero said after a moment, fighting a brief surge of awkwardness himself, an unusual feeling for him. He'd learned of Auto Light's return secondhand before he'd seen it with his own eyes, having come back from the battle of London after the Robot Master had left the war room, and he still wasn't really sure where he stood with him, for many, many reasons. Because of that, he hadn't really made an effort to get to know X's elder brother until now, but it didn't take a social expert to know that he'd have to try breaking the ice eventually.

"I wish," Auto grumbled, crossing his arms and staring after the retreating Robot Master with vague distaste. "At first, it was just stupid and annoying. Now, it's actually starting to come off as kind of creepy. Nobody treated me like this back when I was younger, human _or _Robot Master. It's weirding me out."

"Yeah?" Zero nodded sympathetically, remembering his own early days in the hidden city of the Robot Masters. "Don't worry about it. They'll get over it soon enough, especially if you yell at 'em about it. Did with me, anyways."

"Yeah?" Auto slowly nodded, looking off towards the city. "Hope you're right."

"Usually am." Zero shrugged. When Auto didn't respond, he waited a moment before speaking again. "First time I've seen you in action. You did good out there. Better than almost anybody else we've got."

"I've had practice," the Robot Master said flatly. "Way too much of it." Sighing heavily, he turned his head back towards Zero, round red eyes boring into him. "All right, kid. We should probably get a few things straight between us."

"Yeah?" Zero asked quietly, neither backing off nor pushing, as he stared back. "All right. I'm listening."

"I know about your career," Auto told him, his voice calm, emotionless. "Ever since that shithead Sigma pulled the Virus out of you and made it his. You're one of the good guys. I can tell. You've done a lot of good. Saved a lot of lives. Especially my little brother's. Way I heard it, you've spent a lot of time watching his back for him, when there wasn't anybody else around who could, and even after there was. I owe you for that. I appreciate it. Don't think I don't."

"There's a 'but' coming up, ain't there?" Zero guessed.

"Bingo." Auto kept his gaze on him, and when he spoke next, his voice was different. "Do you know how my _other _brothers died? Mine and X's? And our sister, too?"

_Grinning with the thrill of the kill, Omega threw the one in red and gray into the air above, and finished him with a single shot. _

"Yeah," Zero muttered, breaking eye contact and looking away, using every ounce of willpower in his body to stop himself from freaking out at the murderous memory that had returned to his mind unbidden. After a moment, he looked back; Auto's face remained unchanged. "Yeah, I do. One of my brothers, too."

"Bass." Auto slowly nodded. "I never liked him, but I didn't want him to go like that. I remember it like it was yesterday, kid. Bass, blowing himself up in a suicide strike. My brother Blues, thrown and slagged like he was a clay pigeon. My sister, Roll, fighting for the first and last time before getting offed just as easily. Rush, Eddie, Beat, all blown away like nothing. Like they didn't even count. Like they were _after_thoughts. And then Rock, last of all. Burning himself out to finish it. Dad said he never even knew he'd won. That he'd died before he could realize it."

Zero just remained silent, listening to Auto speak, and when he paused, he nodded at him to continue.

"I remember seeing all that, and not being able to do a damn thing about it," Auto told him, the hatred in his voice fading, replaced by a weariness that Zero recognized all too well. "Not a single goddamn thing. And I know it wasn't you, kid. I don't blame you. You hadn't even woken up yet. That was the Virus. But no matter how much I know that, I can't change what I saw. And every time I see you, I remember that day. I remember watching my family being slaughtered right before my eyes. You get what I'm saying?"

"I do," Zero replied, looking away again. "I understand."

"I appreciate it," Auto said somberly. "You're a good guy, Zero Omega. A good kid. You're the best friend my little bro could have asked for, and I'm cool with that. But you and me... best for both of us if we try to stay out of each others' way. It'd be nice if we didn't have to do that, but sometimes, that's just not in the cards."

"Yeah." Zero exhaled heavily. "Yeah, don't I know it. Story of my goddamn life right there. You don't have to tell me twice. I get the picture." He started to walk off, then paused as Auto spoke again.

"Hey, kid," he hollered. "Sorry."

When Zero turned around, he was gone.

"I'm the one who should be telling you that, you big goon," he whispered, before shaking his head and raising a hand to his helmet, activating his communicator. "Lunkhead, this is Zero. My watch is over, and it looks like things are quieting down at the moment. I'm heading back to Mecha for a while. You've got the command. Call me if anything happens."

"_Yes, sir,_" the Hard Man replied laconically.

Without bothering to say anything to anybody else, Zero left, warping away back to the hidden city he now called home. The EM bubble let him through, as did the second one over Mecha, and when he opened his eyes again, he stood in the empty halls of the Kingdome. For a moment, he considered saying to hell with it for the day and locking himself in his room-he'd been given one as soon as he'd woken up again, and had spent enough time there that it _almost _actually felt like it was his-with a bottle of whiskey, but in the end, decided against it. Instead, he made his way towards the Dark Hall.

"Brother," King greeted him as he entered. Aside from the two of them, the room was deserted, both the table and the viewing gallery above.

"Hey, bro," Zero replied, smiling slightly. "Somehow, I knew you'd be in here if you weren't out there fighting." He walked towards the foot of the table, pausing only to examine the back of the chair, where an X was carved. "So, did he seriously not even notice that his name was on the damn thing? At all?"

"It was an easy thing to overlook," King said calmly. "Perhaps if he had seen the backs of the other chairs, he would have looked at his own."

"Guess that makes enough sense," Zero conceded, sitting down. "Explain to me again why you saved it for him for eighty goddamn years?"

"Symbolism, mainly," King told him. "A reference to the Arthurian legends. The seat perilous, the last, empty chair at the Round Table, which is only occupied when the end of everything is about to begin."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened, ain't it," Zero said with a scowl. "At least it's looking like it. Not that I plan on letting it happen."

"Nor I, my brother," King agreed, a grim smile flashing across his features for a brief moment. "Our father will not succeed so long as either of us still draws breath, that I promise you." He looked at Zero keenly. "But that is not what troubles you today, is it? There is something else, and it weighs heavily on your mind."

"Yeah." Zero exhaled. "And it's not really something I can talk to X about, even if I _wanted _to bitch about my feelings and emotions and shit, which... I don't."

"Understandable," King agreed. "I normally have little time for such things myself. However, for my younger brother, I am always ready to make an exception."

"Just as long as we don't make a habit of it," Zero joked half-heartedly, trying not to think about the fact that it already was, if at least an infrequent one. He'd known King for less than a year, but in that short length of time, he'd already come to accept the proud, solemn ruler of the Robot Masters as what he instinctively recognized him as, without even needing to think about it. His big brother, something he'd never had before, and had never known he'd been missing. "Do you ever feel like you're trying to live down your past, and screwing it up?"

"All too often," King said softly, and something in his voice made Zero look at him sharply. He was staring straight ahead, as if seeing something that wasn't there. "I, too, have sins which I strive to atone for, my brother."

"The Ninth Robot Rebellion," Zero recalled. "Never was much of a history buff, but I heard about that one a couple times. You killed humans. You and the Robot Masters following you. Humans and other Robot Masters, too, the ones who refused to join your cause."

"I did," King admitted readily. "Many of them. Humans and Robot Masters both. Though I have changed my ways since then, and walked a different path, the fact remains that my hands were dyed in blood before my first year had passed."

"Why did you do it?" Zero asked him after a moment, carefully keeping his voice neutral, curious.

"Why?" King repeated. "Tell me, brother. You know of our father. Of what he is. What he was, when he was human. Can you imagine what it was like to be raised by him, in his final days? To learn everything you know from _his _hand, under _his _tutelage? Under his _care_?"

"No," Zero said slowly, shaking his head, after a moment. "No, I can't imagine that. But I understand what you're saying."

"I was not always as I am today," King told him. "The man who I was in the Ninth Robot Rebellion was not an admirable example of our kind. The further I am from that, the better. I can only hope I have succeeded in that goal."

"I'd suggest asking X's big bro, but I'm not sure that'd go over well," Zero grumbled.

"Ah," King murmured. "So _that's _what it is."

"Yeah." Zero scowled again. "That's what it is."

"Your past need not hold you forever, Zero," his brother said, something almost like warmth entering his voice. "Once this conflict is over, you can leave it behind, and start over new. Nothing lasts forever, not even this."

"Careful, there," Zero told him, smirking slightly. "Don't go getting all emotional on me now. Only reason I talk to you about this shit at all is because I know you won't." He dropped the smirk. "Maybe. I have to admit, if I make it out of this one alive, that would be pretty tempting. I'm not going back to the Hunters... and I can't come with you guys. Starting over from scratch might just be the ticket. But that's a long ways off, and a pretty big 'if' to settle first."

"You still have concerns over your mortality," King said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Zero admitted. "I take it _he _still hasn't said shit on the subject?"

"The dead cannot reveal the truth to the living," his brother reminded him. "Such questions are the ones he refuses to speak of at all."

"Figures," Zero grunted. "It's never that easy." He stared at the table for a moment, drumming his fingers on it, before speaking again. "No offense, bro, but sometimes I think about all this shit and I have to wonder if maybe I've just gone completely nuts. I mean, people coming back from the dead-and I mean _really _dead-to fight us again? Those aren't blanks out there. Those are the real thing working for Sigma again. Ghosts of our fathers giving us messages? Having the consciousness of the Maverick Virus as a sister, and a freaking grim reaper for a brother?"

"You have difficulty accepting such things?" King asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"'Difficulty' isn't the word I'd use," Zero said sourly. "If you'd asked me about any of that, let alone all of it, before I woke up again back in November, I'd have told you to take a hike and stop wasting my time. Either that, or just laughed. Didn't believe in anything that I couldn't see and touch. But these days, I have to put in an actual effort to question it. Most of the time, I just take all that at face value." He sighed, shaking his head. "Maybe I _am _crazy. Because I _do _believe that shit. All of it."

"No." King shook his head slowly. "You are not insane, brother. Take my word for it. I, of all people, am something of an authority on the subject, and have been ever since my own... accident at the end of the Ninth."

"Hey, hey," Zero protested, smirking now as he wagged a finger. "That's a whatchamacallit. Logical inconsistency. If I'm not crazy, that means all that shit _is _real. Which includes what _you _see and hear. And _that _means _you _ain't crazy either, bro. Either we're _both _nuts, or neither of us is. Which is it gonna be, huh?"

King laughed.

It was the first time Zero had ever heard him do so. It wasn't much, a slow, rueful chuckle, but it was a laugh all the same. He blinked, startled, until he was done; for some reason, it seemed decidedly out of place, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"Your logic is... difficult to argue with," he said, and though he wasn't quite smiling, something of it was in his eyes now. "I find myself tempted to agree, despite my knowledge to the contrary."

"Of course you should agree," Zero replied, smiling again. "I'm right. Little brothers are always right. Didn't you know that?"

"I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with that particular fact," King replied gravely.

"Yeah?" Zero shrugged. "Well, it's true."

"I shall have to take your word for it, then," King told him. "If you will permit me one, brief moment of emotionality, Zero... I am glad that I was able to get to know you. That is the only thing about this war I do not regret."

"I'll let it slide," Zero said with a straight face. Feeling more than slightly awkward, he decided to change the subject. "The Hunters have a plan, I hear. On dealing with Wily, once and for all."

"They do," King confirmed, nodding. "It will take much time and effort to enact, and much of it remains to be concieved, but they have begun."

"Will it work?" Zero asked directly, meeting his eyes again. "Is it really going to be that simple? Hazil and that asshole Lifesaver finally managed to figure out how the hell the Disciples keep coming back. Partially, anyways. Some kind of transmitter attached to the control chip set to send it off at the instant of death. What they _don't _know is _how _it works; some kind of spatial anomaly or something generated for the transmission to travel through, back to the Devil's Sea for revival."

"I had heard," King told him, his gaze dark and angry now. "Our sister calls souls back from the beyond, while our father splits them into fragments. It is unsurprising; both are indicative of their own. If you are concerned that his abomination of a new body has the same device, though, put at least that fear to rest. I agree with Auto Light's judgment. Above all things, our father has always been a coward. His claims of dying intentionally so that he could be resurrected are lies. He fears death, in all its forms, and will never willingly undergo it, or incorporate it into any plan of his."

"So that's it, then?" Zero raised an eyebrow. "Kill Wily, and the Faithful roll over and give up?"

"If Wily had been killed in the time of the Robot Masters, none of this would have ever occurred," King said firmly. "Without him, those who follow him have nothing, _are _nothing. They are reliant entirely upon him, and he ensures that they are aware of it, even as he ensures that it remains so. It is his way. It has always been his way, and it always will." The corners of his mouth twitched upward, though his eyes were cold. "Our father makes _me _look _humble _by comparison."

"No offense, bro, but that says it all right there," Zero joked, and they both chuckled briefly before he continued. "Yeah, okay. The last two Light Brothers, finishing the job once and for all. Fair enough. But even if that works, that's still only half the problem. It won't matter if every last one of the Faithful tear those stupid capes off of their officers and turn them into flags as long as we've still got fifteen thousand infected Mavericks out to make the end of the world a reality. They're going to have to be dealt with too. Permanently. And if the Hunters are working on Wily, that means that's _our _problem."

"Indeed it does," King agreed solemnly. "And one just as personal for you and I as that of our father, considering the identity of the one pulling Sigma's strings."

"The consciousness of the Maverick Virus." Zero was aware of his right hand balling up into a fist, and didn't fight it. "According to you guys, our sister. My _twin _sister. And if I'm going along with the rest of this crazy shit, I can't even say that's not right. Not for sure. As if I _needed _to raise the stakes on _that _one any higher than they already are."

"Does our the message you received from the afterlife still trouble you?" King asked shrewdly, and Zero fell silent; his brother was the only one he'd told of that, so far. He kept meaning to bring it up to X, but for some reason, every time he'd tried so far he'd hesitated.

"_Your sister, Zero. Your... sister. You must... her. You are... can. Only... can... her... Zero... you... back... late..." _

"Yeah," he admitted eventually. "It keeps coming back to me, and I still can't make out everything he says. But that's not why I'm doing this." He met his brother's eyes. "I'm doing it for myself. My history with the Virus, and with Sigma. That's all the reason I need, whether I believe or not."

"Do you have a plan?" King asked him quietly.

"No," Zero admitted. "I don't. Not yet. But I'm working on it. And when I do, I'll be counting on you to back me up on it. No matter what it takes to make it happen."

"No matter what," his brother agreed.

**August 11, 2186, 7:00 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"All right, I'm taking my leave," Alia told her team; at the moment, with no fighting currently going on in any of the five current zones of engagement, her Navigators were the only ones present. "Donia, you're in charge."

"You got it," her second told her, smirking. "Got a big night planned?"

"Where, exactly?" She asked archly.

"Hey, there's gotta be _somewhere _nice out there that hasn't shut down yet," Donia retorted. "And if you give me a few minutes, I might even be able to think of one."

"I'm sure." Rolling her eyes, Alia stood and walked towards the door. "Let me know if you've got one by tomorrow morning."

"Have fun," the other woman called after her. Fortunately, the rest of what she was saying went unheard, as the doors closed behind Alia. Shaking her head, she made her way through the MHHQ up to the roof, where X was waiting for her; they'd agreed to meet up there once they were both done for the day that morning, and she wasn't surprised to find that not only had he arrived first, but that he'd already set everything up.

"Alia," he said quietly, looking up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the roof with a smile as he stood. Walking over to her, he pulled her into a hug which she returned, and they stood there for several moments, the world around them and all its horrors forgotten for an all-too-brief interval. It couldn't last forever, though; far too soon, they both opened their eyes again and stepped back. "How was your day?"

"About average," she said, smiling. "These days, any one in which nobody I like is killed counts as a good one."

"I really wish I could argue that," he said, sighing, but though his smile faded, it was only for a moment. "But you do have a point. Nobody died today. That's enough, for now." He glanced over towards where he'd been sitting, where he'd set up a folding table and a couple of chairs, the former carrying their dinner, both plates covered to keep them warm. "I'm sorry it's not much; just synthesized food from the mess hall."

"It's fine," she assured him, taking a seat as he did the same. "That's not what's important. As long as we're both here, I don't care about anything else."

"I don't either," he agreed. "But I tried, all the same."

"I know you did," she told him, reaching out and taking his hand for a moment. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't." She looked at him more closely then, noticing how tired he looked, even more than usual. "You still haven't been getting enough stasis. Either that, or your day was much more busy than mine."

"It was," he admitted readily. "A round in the training room with Zero, meeting with Signas about how well our long-term strategy is going, working on a new model of combat drones that take half as many materials to make as most of ours with Auto down in the garage, working out our defense plan down there with Arvis, Prince and Rip... on top of my usual time on patrol." He sighed heavily. "There's never enough time, Alia. Now I know why Signas hasn't been getting his stasis either, ever since this all started."

"_Take _the time, X," she told him, meeting his eyes. "If you've got anything else to do tonight, save it for tomorrow. You need to take care of yourself if you're going to take care of the rest of the world. We'll turn in once we're finished here, and we'll both get a good night's sleep, all right?"

"Is that what you had in mind?" He asked her mildly, smiling. "Sleep?"

"Well." She smiled as well. "Mostly sleep." They kept their shared gaze going for a moment more before turning their attention to their dinner. It was edible, though hardly more than that, but they were both used to it by now, like everybody else; non-synthesized food was rarer and more expensive every day. Eventually, she glanced at him again. "Is Prince still angry at you?"

"No." X shook his head. "At least, not that I can tell. He was for a while, but he seems to have put it behind him now."

"Has he?" She asked, raising an eyebrow; it wasn't that she doubted his word, but it was never that easy. "Is he back to the way he was before, then?"

"Not quite," X admitted. "He's not holding a grudge any more, but he's still changed. He doesn't smile much these days, or joke, and he's far less optimistic than he used to be. About anything and everything."

"He's growing up, then?" She asked him, and after thinking about it for a moment, he nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed. "That's a good way of putting it."

"I've noticed the same thing happening to Duke," she said, taking another bite. "He's not as flippant as he used to be, or as detached."

"I think we can probably count on all of them going through that eventually," he predicted. "It'll take them longer than most reploids just because of how set in their ways they are, but war does that to everybody, sooner or later."

"What do you think's going to happen to them, once this war is over with?" She asked idly, toying with her fork. "They can't just go back to living in secrecy."

"I'm not sure." He shook his head. "That's one of the things we still don't know about them. They've got some sort of plan for that, I'm sure, but they're not talking about it. All I know is that it has something to do with Earl's greatest duty."

"Earl?" She frowned instinctively before thinking about it. "You mean like Countess and the Silver Bullet, or when Duke came here as Mecha's ambassador to the MHHQ?"

"Right." He nodded. "All eight of them seem to have one. I've figured out what most of them are, but Earl's is one of the ones that still eludes me."

"Don't worry about it," she advised him. "I'm sure we'll find out eventually."

"Yeah." He nodded. "And that's a long ways in a future that's still only a possibility, even if we're finally working on a way to make it a reality." He glanced at her. "Did Signas call Mecha up after I left at noon? They said they've got a plan for a distraction when the time comes, but we didn't know what it was at the time."

"Oh, yes." She smiled as she thought of it. "It's funny that you just mentioned Earl. He's the one who's in charge of it."

"So, I'm guessing subtlety isn't exactly going to be the operating plan," he said dryly.

"Not as such, no." She shook her head. "The target is one of Wily's largest factories. It's a hundred miles away from the Devil's Sea, out in the wasteland. It'll still be highly guarded, but not so much as to be insurmountable."

"What do they produce there?" He asked. "More Faithful?"

"Not at this one." She shook her head. "Airship parts. They're starting to build another fleet, to replace the one they sacrificed at the Battle of London."

"Damn." He scowled. "And knowing Wily, this isn't the only one he's got working on that problem, so even if we waste it, he'll still keep going."

"I'm afraid so," she agreed. "But this is the center of that operation, so destroying it _will _set them back a great deal. Plus, I'm not sure if you'd count this as poetic or not, but we're actually using that particular fact as our means of destroying it."

"Really?" He smiled, turquoise eyes glinting. "_This _should be good."

"Oh, it is," she assured him. "Most of their factories are out in the wasteland, and they need a reliable method of transporting product between them quickly. Their solution was the old Eurorail system. They've got it up and running, more than a dozen trains moving around between one facility and the next. The Mavericks are doing the same over in their territory. They've even got one of the old Sea Trains running between the east coast of the United States-or what used to be the United States, anyways-and the west coast of Europe."

"You're kidding me," X said, and when she shook her head, he scoffed, sounding more amused than irritated. "We should probably do something about that. The Sea Train, at least, if not the rest of them just yet."

"We don't want to spoil the plan," she told him. "Right now, security on those is tight, but not insurmountable. If we start attacking them, they'll change that."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "So, how is Earl planning on taking advantage of that?"

"Have you seen his antique collection?" She asked slyly, and after a moment, his eyes widened.

"You're kidding me," he said, and she shook her head. "That old thing? He's bringing it back into action?"

"He says it'll still be compatible with the tracks," she told him. "Warp it in somewhere down the line, fill the entire thing up with explosives, and ram the factory at full speed before detonating them. Like you said, not particularly subtle, but it'll work."

"Who's going to be driving it?" He asked, frowning. "The Faithful aren't going to just stare like idiots when they see it coming."

"Earl's planning on doing it himself," she told him. "He knows how to operate it, and he's good enough in a fight to be able to hold them off until impact, and get away alive."

"Good," X said quietly. "That should work, then. And by the time they figure out _that _was the distraction, with any luck, it'll be too late. Then..." He sighed. "Then we find out once and for all if we have a chance in hell."

"Yes," she agreed, looking down at her plate. Again, for a few moments, neither of them said anything, until eventually she spoke again. "X, do you ever think about what you're going to do after this is over? If we do win this, and survive? If we actually manage to end this once and for all?"

"Sometimes," he said, not meeting her eyes at the moment. "Not very often. I'm still not sure there's even the possibility of that at all. But sometimes."

"What would you do?" She pressed him. "If this was all over. If there was no more Virus, no more Wily, no more war. If the world started to rebuild itself, and the Maverick Hunters weren't needed any more."

"The Maverick Hunters are always going to be needed," he told her solemnly. "If not them, somebody like them. Even without Sigma, or Wily, or the Virus, there will always be reploids who try to harm each other and humans. That's something that's not going to change even if we manage to win this war." He closed his eyes, then. "But if that's all that's left... then they wouldn't need me, any more. Not just for that."

"It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" She asked gently. "To be able to walk away from this life, and never have to fight again."

"If I could..." he said slowly, eyes speculative. "If I was able to do that, in good conscience, and trust that I'd never have to return... I'd disappear, I suppose. Take up a new name, a new identity, and a new life, somewhere far enough away that I wouldn't be recognized. Find a job, somewhere, doing something I was good at... and live. If I could do that, then there's only one thing more I'd need, to have everything I've ever wanted."

"Oh?" She teased him lightly. "And what would that be?"

"You." He met her eyes solemnly, and his heart and mind and soul were all in them. "If I do... will you come with me?"

"Of course I will," she promised, putting down her fork and reaching across the table to take his hand in hers again. "You don't even have to ask. When that day comes... when nobody here, or anywhere else, needs us any more... I'd like that."

"Then that's what we'll do, when this is done," he said, as they sat together under the night sky. "Together."

"Together," she echoed, as she realized she still remembered what hope felt like after all.

**October 1, 2186, 6:00 PM **

**Schroeder, Australia **

Countess crouched in the darkness, as her weapons systems went to work, and quietly wondered if this would be the time they would find her and kill her before she could do the same to them.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" One of the Mavericks standing by the door of the ruined building grumbled. "We could be out there killing!"

"You know your orders, just like I do," his partner reminded him. "We wait here until the other guys are finished searching for survivors, in case any of them manage to get down here. Otherwise, one might get away."

"There ain't no survivors this time," the first one scoffed. "This place is slagged. Should have just left it for the demolition crews. They'll get here soon."

"Not soon enough, if there's any roaches still kicking up there somewhere," the other snapped. "The others all took their turns standing watch, now it's ours. Next building we'll be back on searching, and somebody else'll have to stand around. Maybe you'll even get one. Until then, quit yer bitching, already."

"You've got a big mouth, Bart," the first Maverick growled, glaring at him. "One of these days, somebody's going to shut it for you."

"Like who?" Bart sneered. "You? As if. Feel free to try any time, Rin old buddy. Sometimes I get sick of your face just as much, no matter how far we go back." Their eyes met for a moment, and then they both relaxed, chuckling.

"Man, those were the days," Rin said, smiling. "Back before any of this. Running around in China on the GDC's payroll."

"Bad pay and worse food," Bart recalled aloud. "You ever miss those days?"

"Sometimes," Rin admitted. "Didn't ever think I would. Not that it matters any more."

"No, I guess not," Bart agreed, shaking his head. "Seriously, Rin. Questioning orders ain't a good idea for Mavericks. If the Virus doesn't make an example of you, Lord Double _will_, first time he hears you."

"That fat freak doesn't scare me," Rin muttered, looking around evasively. For a moment, Countess thought he'd spotted her, peeking occasionally above the bottom of the only window in the room, but his eyes moved on a moment later.

"Then you really are an idiot," Bart told him flatly. "Lord Double scares anybody who's sane, and if you've ever seen his _other _side, you know why. Don't _ever _piss him or any of the other top brass off, Rin. We're more expendable than the _Faithful _are."

"Nobody's more expendable than those bible-thumpers," Rin scoffed.

"Try and tell the boss that," Bart retorted, as the elevator dinged, opening to reveal eight more Mavericks, several of them sporting fresh blood.

"All clear," one of them told the pair standing guard. "Four of 'em this time. One of 'em was a kid."

"Kid?" Bart frowned. "Shame. Kids always depress me. They die so _fast_."

"Yeah, that was over _way _too quickly," one of the other Mavericks in the elevator agreed, before sniffing the air. "Hey, any of you guys smell something weird?"

"Damn," Countess muttered under her breath, checking the time before nodding to herself and retracting the hoses snaking into the wall. Sealing themselves, they coiled back into her wrists, and she jumped to her feet before bolting.

"Hey, somebody's there!" One of the Mavericks yelled, spotting her through the glass. "Come on, lads! She won't get far before-" He never finished the sentence; at that moment, the small, timed device she had placed inside the room went off. Too primitive to count as any sort of robot at all, even a drone, it only had one function when its timer had finished counting down. Creating an open flame, in an enclosed room that she had just spent the last several minutes filling with a precise mixture of various flammable gases.

The explosion was impressive, taking out the entire bottom floor of the building, which promptly collapsed forward onto the Mavericks and Faithful raging through the city outside.

Running through back alleys and side streets despite a lack of any visible pursuit, Countess eventually slowed down, though she continued looking around her in case of anybody or anything she'd missed. There was no such thing as paranoia, not in these days, when all the time the world had borrowed from one apocalypse after another had suddenly been called in by the unholy alliance between Wily and Sigma. No matter where you were, no matter _who _you were, they _were _out to get you. Unless, of course, you _were _one of them, and probably even then.

Ducking behind a dumpster, she checked her weapons energy meters, and made a face; they were higher than she'd thought, but lower than she'd hoped. As with all of his final creation, Dr. Corbun had given her a unique weapons system; in her case, a variety of chemical gases with various applications, designed with robots in mind although most of them would still do for humans if it ever came to that. Personally, she hoped it didn't. It made her more of an assassin than a warrior, though she did have a few options if it ever came to that, as long as the wind was in her favor.

That being said, she'd been stationed here in the final remaining habitable location on the continent for a reason, just as her other seven seriesmates-she'd finally forced herself to stop using "brothers and sisters"-had been deployed across the globe in positions of command over Mecha's forces. She'd been able to put her talents as an infiltrator and saboteur to good use during the siege, but now that the enemy forces were inside the walls and the final slaughter had begun, there was only so much she could do to delay their advance, despite what was expected of her.

"I'm really not suited to this," she murmured, before shaking her head and returning her thoughts to the task at hand. It didn't matter how much more she would prefer being back in the labs. She was a guardian of Mecha, one of the eight her father had entrusted with carrying on his work after his death, and she would do what was required of her, until her last breath. And if that meant laying down her life for the cause sooner or later, when her luck ran out, so be it. She was a practical woman, and she wasn't afraid of death.

Even as she started to run again, she heard the explosion behind her. But she never even saw the wall collapsing, coming down on her from above.

She didn't know how long it was before she regained consciousness. Groaning, she slowly opened her eyes, and realized suddenly that she couldn't feel her legs, or her right arm. Fortunately, she was able to remain silent, and after a moment she realized why. She was buried under rubble, a wall having come down on top of her, pinning most of her completely; it would have been a miracle, if she believed in them, that she hadn't been crushed entirely. That being said, she wasn't going to be pulling herself out; all three trapped limbs were showing major damage, their systems already shut off to prevent the pain from overwhelming her.

Looking out through a small crack in the pile of debris she was trapped inside, she saw to her dismay that there wasn't a single building standing within sight. She'd run in the wrong direction, back towards occupied territory; it was probably one of the enemy demolitions squads, systematically tearing everything down so that it could be consumed more easily by the shifting sands, that had caused her current situation. She would have to warp out eventually, but for a moment, she debated remaining despite her condition; unseen, she might be able to overhear valuable information.

And then that possibility ceased to be theoretical, as Doctor Wily strolled down the street in front of her, as if enjoying a pleasant afternoon walk before dinner.

"Oh, we didn't start the fire..." he sang quietly, untroubled by any trace of tune, as he looked around the burning devastation surrounding him with a cheerful smile. "It was always burning, since the world's been turning..."

"My God," another, much deeper voice growled as a massive hulk stepped into her field of vision as well. Tretista Kelvarian, one of his Disciples, the most elite of his slaves, his face blank. "We have been searching for you."

"Oh, what _have _I been thinking of?" Wily asked, turning to him. "I forgot to tell you all I was stepping out for a walk, didn't I? How careless of me. You will forgive me, I trust?"

"No forgiveness is required, my God," another Disciple, the stooped Volteel Biblio, said with a smirk as he stepped around Kelvarian. "We only wished to convey some pleasant news." He raised his hand, and Countess stifled a curse, as anger and sorrow both hit her like a freight train. The bastard was holding Serris' severed head.

She'd never been the type to make friends easily, but over the months she'd been stationed in Schroeder, she'd come to know and trust the three leaders of the Hunters' Delta Force as much as her comrades in Mecha. Of the three, Serris had been the one with which she'd found the most common ground; his calm, detached perspective was similar to her own, and his dry sense of humor all the more amusing when she was the only one in the room who even picked up on the joke. She was a realist, and she knew the risks, but that didn't stop the hurt of knowing the Captain of the 23rd was gone forever.

Of course, there was a chance that he wasn't. If enough remained of his body, if his control chip hadn't been blown out by whatever had caused his death, it was possible that he could still be brought back. All she would have to do was get the head; as _that _thought ran through her mind, she had to stop herself from snorting in disbelief. Taking on _one _of the three, let alone all of them, in the condition she was in was about as likely a proposition as flying to the sun, picking it up, and bringing it back to Earth to hit Wily over the head with.

Then again, that wasn't the way she did things by preference in the first place. Slowly, she flexed the fingers of her left arm, before extending the gas hose from her wrist. Wily and the rest were twenty feet away, and the wind was blowing towards them. If she could produce a cloud of her most corrosive mixture, out in the open where they were standing, and it was blown over them before they could escape... Serris' head would probably be destroyed as well, but it might not be. More importantly, if she managed to get Wily with enough, maybe, _maybe..._

"Ah, Captain Serris, I presume," Wily greeted the head cordially as she continued to think. "Tell me, my Disciples, why have you brought the good Captain before me? He doesn't seem to be in the mood for polite conversation at the moment."

"We had an amusing thought, my God," Biblio explained, tossing the head up and down in his hand. "The Hunters have a little tradition they've picked up over the course of the war. Whenever one of us, or Sigma's Generals, is slain, they've taken to bringing the head back home to put on a spike out front. A little display of savagery, to reassure the civilians, though for some reason they stick to one of each head. I'm sure they should have more of some of them by now. At any rate, we thought perhaps the custom might be worth adopting."

"An interesting thought," Wily mused. "While I detest plagiarism, one could choose to view it instead as a gesture of respect, and of approval. One _should _encourage one's enemies when they impress, and any display of carnage on their part beyond what they feel to be strictly necessary _is _worthy of acknowledgment. On the other hand, the Captain _is _part of a set, and in order for the full effect to be established, we really should have all three before we put them on display. What news of his fellows?"

All she had to do was guide the hose through the opening, and start releasing the gas; she could control the composition of the chemicals being produced so that it was completely invisible. As long as none of them noticed the movement, or smelled the gas, she should be able to produce at least one large cloud and let the wind bring it to them before they noticed. Of course, if she _was _seen, her own death would be immediate, but she'd been risking that since the war had began.

And yet, for some reason she didn't understand, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her hand wasn't locked up like her other limbs, but it might as well have been for all she could do with it. No matter how much she wanted to, despite knowing that any attempt like this with even a reasonable chance of success had to be made, something was stopping her, something that made her thoughts race wildly and her microfusion generator quicken. Something was messing with her head.

And then she realized what it was. It was fear. She was terrified of the old man with the twinkling eye and jovial smile standing not twenty feet away from her, so much so that she couldn't even move the parts of her body still capable of doing so.

"Captain Javier of the 21st Unit is currently leading the Hunters' evacuation and withdrawal, in the south quadrant," Kelvarian reported, as she continued to watch helplessly. "Captain Helen of the 22nd Unit was last seen in this vicinity. Her whereabouts are unknown, and no warp signature matching hers was detected. If she is dead, her body has not been identified."

"Not very promising," Wily said, shaking his head regretfully. "Still, perhaps." He thought it over, looking around. "It _has _been a good day, after all, and some sort of celebration would be in order." Abruptly, he looked at his Disciples over her shoulder, having turned away from them. "Tell me, my Faithful, what do you see around you?"

"The city-state of Schroeder, Australia," Kelvarian replied tonelessly. "Former population, five mill-"

"Biblio?" Wily asked calmly, and though his voice carried no hint of displeasure, Kelvarian immediately fell silent.

Again, Countess tried to bring herself to attack from her concealed position, and again she was unable to. It was ridiculous, she knew, and yet it was happening all the same. She'd faced death a hundred times before throughout the course of the war, and she'd never flinched before. Suddenly being paralyzed by fear, now of all times, when it mattered the most, was humiliating beyond belief. She wasn't afraid of dying. She wasn't. She _knew _she wasn't. She wasn't afraid of death, and she _wasn't _afraid of _him_. She _wasn't_.

"I'm afraid, my God, that I don't see anything." The blind Disciple coughed.

"Shall I tell you what I see, then?" Wily asked, as he began tapping his foot idly, and then snapping his fingers. "I see a masterpiece, my Disciples. A work of art. I feel... fulfilled. This is why I exist, my Disciples. This is why I died, and returned again. For this." And then, as Countess watched in horror and disbelief, he began to _dance_, feet tapping and arms swinging. The Disciples watched silently, as he moved down the street, humming some long-forgotten tune, until he spoke again.

"Something is missing," he told them gravely, without pausing. He motioned to Biblio for Serris' head, and the Disciple threw it underhand. Catching it, he began tossing it around like a ball, from hand to hand. And then the repulsor in his palm activated, and Serris' head vanished in a flare of blue light and red blood. "No, no, that's not it. Oh, dear. My apologies, boys. It was a nice idea."

"We live but to serve, my God," Bibleel assured him, and Kelvarian rumbled his assent, neither acknowledging the drops of blood that had sprayed them.

A moment later, an explosion erupted above them.

"_Wily!_" Helen screamed as she burst from another pile of debris, flaming and furious. Her armor was ruined, and her left arm hung loosely, nearly severed, but her eyes made it clear that she didn't care. She fell towards her enemy, buster raised, and Wily turned to her, still smiling. His hands shot out, before she could fire, one gripping her wrist and forcing her buster arm out, away from her. The other wrapped around her waist, and as her feet hung in the air, he continued to move as he had before, bearing her with him.

"Ah, yes," he murmured. "A dance partner. _That _was what I was missing. Thank you, Captain." In response, she attempted to bite his face and knee him in the crotch, both of which he avoided or blocked, even while she struggled to break free. Without so much as changing expression, he snapped her wrist before releasing it to turn the repulsor in his hand on her head. Helen's skull was obliterated, just as Serris' had been, and Wily continued to dance with her decapitated corpse, taking her arm again before it had finished falling. Voices silent, and faces straight, his Disciples followed him.

Countess waited there, terrified and shivering, until she was sure they were gone. Only then did she dare to warp away, fleeing Schroeder in shame and despair.

**January 1, 2187, 5:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

The alarm she'd set to wake her did its job admirably. Caught in a dream of the past, back when she'd been just another dumb broad running with the Mercy Street Ghosts, too stupid to get out while the getting was good until she'd looked up one day and seen Eurasia falling, it took several moments before Donia recognized the blaring buzz for what it was. With understanding came awakening; the dream fell away, returning her to the present, alone in the quarters given to her by the first place she had ever truly called home.

"What the hell...?" She muttered, glaring at the clock. "Why did I...?" A moment later, she remembered the answer to her question, and groaned. "Right. Today." She let her head drop back to the pillow, face down, before sighing and pulling herself from the sheets; as much as she hated the very existence of an hour this early, she was a member of a military organization, and she knew her duty. Most reploids preferred stasis capsules, but Donia was one of the exceptions who enjoyed the advantages of an actual bed.

"Memo to self," she grumbled at that thought as she warped her armor on. "Get a new stud, already. It has officially been _way _too long." The fact that there was a war on, and that they all had more important things to be worrying about, hadn't stopped other Hunters and staff from their regular schedule of liaisons, affairs and "personal benefits." No matter what you called it, it all came down to the same thing in the end, and if the world really was ending, Donia had no intention of going to her grave riding a streak of celibacy longer than a year.

For the moment, however, her duty _was _the priority at hand. Checking herself in the one small mirror she kept in her quarters, she nodded approvingly before heading out into the hall. Normally, she would take the long route, picking up Fio and Lily on the way to the War Room-possibly Alia as well, even with X likely to be there these days, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing considering how easily he blushed when asked the right questions-but today, she was all efficiency. She made it there in record time, and was unsurprised to find that she was far from the last one there.

"Donia," Alia greeted her as she took her seat; if her boss was feeling the tension in the air, she wasn't showing it, outwardly appearing as calm and professional as usual. "Are you ready for this?"

"And willing," Donia told her, smirking. "You know me, Alia. The higher the stakes are, the more fun I'm having. And they don't get any higher than this. Do-or-die time. We blow this one, we might as well surrender and save time."

"I wouldn't recommend sharing that suggestion with any of your other superiors," Alia advised her, straight-faced.

"Spoilsport," Donia accused her. "I had the report all drawn up for Commander Signas and everything. I was gonna call it 'Operations Plan Kiss Somebody Else's Ass Goodbye.' Might as well go out-"

"I get the picture," Alia cut her off, rolling her eyes before finally smiling, and they both laughed for a moment as Donia remembered all the times they'd spent together both on the clock and off, and wondered if the other woman was doing the same. Her unasked question was answered almost instantly, as Alia continued. "Just in case something happens, while I've still got the chance... thanks, Donia. For everything."

"You too," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm through deliberate effort, and clapping her best friend on the shoulder. Leaning over, she lowered her voice and continued. "You deserve the happiness you've found, Alia. You and X both. There isn't anybody in the world who's earned that more than the two of you, and I'm going to do everything I damn well can to make sure you both keep it for more than a few months." Leaning back, she spoke normally again. "Now don't go getting all girly on me now."

"No chance of that," Alia retorted, but the gratitude in her eyes spoke louder than words. A moment later, the last of those who were coming arrived, and Commander Signas stood.

"It is now 0515 hours, and all ranking officers have arrived, from both the MHHQ and Mecha," he said calmly, every eye in the room on him. "At 0530, we will commence Operation Starnet. Before we begin, we will review our strategy one more time." He turned to the main projector, which was displaying the globe, as it usually did when not in use for something else. Most of the dots on the sphere were black by now, representing city-states which had already fallen, leaving only seven still glowing blue.

New Shirewick, last of the Antarctic Colonies. Nova Scotia and Cuba, radically different islands off the coasts of a continent now completely devoid of human life. New Korea and Vladivostok, the two city-states closest to Japan. All five were under siege, leaving only New Tokyo and Mecha, and nobody was foolish enough to believe that that would last long. The only other dots on the map were both bright red, marking Maverick City and the Devil's Sea. It was a spot near there that Signas zoomed in on, before adding another marker.

"This is the location of the largest Faithful facility outside of the Devil's Sea itself," he told them all. "Its destruction will set back their production of a new air fleet by three to six months, and slow their campaign of genocide considerably. A goal worthy of our attention by itself, which is as it should be, or else our hopes of using it as a distraction from our true objective will all fall short. We will return to that momentarily." Zooming back out, he began marking more spots, not on the globe itself, but in the air around it.

"Twenty satellites," he continued when he finished. "Created by more than a dozen different nations, launched into space for just as many reasons, and then left there, ignored once their purposes were fulfilled. All save for one." He zoomed in on one dot, and the globe was replaced by that satellite's schematic. Donia stifled a whistle; she was no gearhead, but she could tell that the satellite was built using technology more than a century out of date... and it was _still _an impressive piece of work.

"Whoever cobbled _that _thing together knew what they were doing," she muttered under her breath, and heard Alia stifle a laugh. "What?"

"Project Skylight," Signas said, answering her question; even _she _recognized _that _name. "Created by the legendary Second Rainbow to defend Earth against meteor strikes, designed to repair itself as necessary in order to remain functional without need of assistance. For nearly a century and a half, it has protected this world, and now, it will do soon once again. It will be the first stepping stone of those who will create the Starnet."

"At 0530 hours, the 30th Unit will depart from the MHHQ, accompanied by a task force of Gemini Men, Star Men and Astro Men," the Commander continued. "They will warp themselves, along with a shuttle for their return, to Project Skylight, where they will set up the first generator. Once it has been installed, but not activated, Captain Ganesheriff, Viscount and Margravine will remain to guard it while their men warp to the other satellites and proceed to do the same on each one, until the entire Starnet is ready to activate." He glanced at Auto, standing unobtrusively in a corner, who stepped forward.

"The generators are designed to be both self-sustaining as well as capable of drawing on the power source of the satellites they'll be set up on," he explained, the technical terms sounding more than a little strange in his booming voice. "They'll use that for as long as the satellite remains operational, before switching to their own power, which should last for a century all by itself. Once these suckers are up, they're _staying _up, especially since each will generate an EM bubble around itself once activated, preventing anybody else from warping in and turning the suckers back off."

"Of course, they'd have a hard time doing that anyways, considering their _other _function." His steamshovel jaw twisted slightly, as if he was smirking. "A constantly shifting, randomly generated network of electromagnetic fields throughout the atmosphere of the planet those satellites orbit. _Our _planet. That's what we're calling 'the Starnet,' and its purpose is simple. To shut down warp technology, hard. Nobody's gonna be able to go _anywhere _further than line of sight ever again once this baby's up and running." He nodded to Signas, who began talking again.

"In addition to the generators, the teams will be installing a rudimentary weapons system," he told them. "The main means of defense, however, will be from Skylight, which will be reprogrammed to use all of its armament to protect both itself and all other Net-bearing satellites from _any _attempts to board them. Once setup is completed, all teams will return there; the other generators can be activated from the first, on Skylight, but not deactivated. The Net will be created, and the shuttle used to return to New Tokyo." He glanced at King, then, who cleared his throat before speaking.

"Five minutes after their initial departure, the 17th and 00 Units will leave as well, for the location previously indicated by Commander Signas," he said calmly. "They will be accompanied by myself, Zero Omega, Earl, and a contingent of Robot Masters under our command. In addition, Chief Mechanic Douglas and several veteran members of his department will also join us. Our goal will be to create a distraction, in order to prevent the enemies from investigating the creation of the Starnet until it is complete."

"In order to do so, we must make it appear as if _that _is the distraction, and our activities near the Devil's Sea our primary objective." He paused as Signas brought up another schematic, this one the pride and joy of Earl's vehicle collection. "The destruction of the aforementioned facility. Our means to this end are simple. We are in possession of a British Rail Class 393 train, which Earl has kept functional. We will warp it onto the tracks, load it with explosives, and then ram the facility with it at top speed."

"Question," Captain Rip said mildly, raising his hand. "Who's the poor sucker who's gonna be driving that thing when it goes off?"

"That'd be me, asshole," Earl replied with his customary politeness. "And I don't plan on still being in there when it blows. I can operate that thing, _and _fight my way clear of it once it's close enough that they won't be able to stop it. We'll have an EM bubble generator on board, so all I'll have to do is keep 'em from boarding it. We stuck enough guns on there that that shouldn't be a problem unless a Disciple shows up, and there'll be more guys riding up top to keep 'em off." He spat. "Of course, that means if I'm wrong, we won't be able to warp out, but hell. I'll take my chances."

"The role of those accompanying the train will be to protect it," Signas explained. "Due to the risks involved with warping high explosives, the cargo will instead be delivered by one of Mecha's subterranean tanks, which is already en route to the target location. In addition, the presence of X, Zero, King and Auto all in the same location will further convince the enemy that the train is the primary mission. Once it has been deployed, a convoy of Landchasers will accompany it to its destination. Only once success has been confirmed will they warp back here, before the Net is activated."

"Our remaining forces have already been divided," he finished, pulling the globe back up again; now, each dot had a menu next to it listing the Units and teams present there. "Three Units of Maverick Hunters and two teams of Robot Masters have been assigned to each remaining city-state aside from New Tokyo and Mecha, where the rest of us will remain. Captains, you will return to your men as soon as both groups depart." His cold features softened slightly. "I'm afraid it will likely be some time before you see the MHHQ again."

"It happens," Captain Javier said bluntly. The once jovial Hunter had soured considerably after the fall of Schroeder and the deaths of his two partners in Delta Force, along with the majority of all three Units; the survivors had all condensed into the 21st, and the 22nd and 23rd had been added to the list of the decommissioned. "It'll be worth it. We'll hold out as long as we can, and then anybody who lives will bring the civilian survivors back here. If we have to do it by hovertransport instead of by warping, no biggie."

"Very well." Signas nodded. "Hopefully, when you do, we will have another operations plan, this one for victory. For now, however, it is 0530 hours, and time we began. Does anybody else have anything more to say?" He waited, and when nobody spoke, inclined his head. "Very well. Let Operation Starnet commence."

**December 31, 2186, 10:30 PM **

**The Wasteland **

"All right, spread out," X told the 17th Unit as soon as they'd all arrived. "The train will be arriving at any moment. Our job is to make sure nobody stops the noncombatants from loading it up. Auto, you take the southeast quadrant. I'll take the northeast."

"You heard the man, boys and girls!" Arvis shouted, and the other twenty-seven Hunters of the 17th Unit scrambled to do as they'd been ordered. Despite how many losses they'd taken over the courses of the war, his Unit was never understaffed for long before new recruits were assigned to it. The fact that most of them died just as quickly as they'd come was one of the many things X tried not to think about these days.

"Alia, is there anything in the area we should be concerned with?" He asked her.

"_Not yet,_" she replied. "_I'll let you know the instant I see anything._"

"You always do," he said with a smile before turning to his brother. "What do you think? Should we test out those new drones we've been working on?"

"Light minds think alike." Auto laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "I asked Douglas and the boys to bring 'em along." Almost perfectly on cue, streaks of light fell from the heavens, resolving into the ancient train and the mechanics who'd come along to prepare it for its last run.

"All right, get those hounds out here!" Douglas yelled, and his men began opening up the train's cars. They were mostly empty, save for a collection of crates about half the size of a man. Hauling them out onto the ground, they opened them up, revealing what was inside. Robotic canine drones, roughly three feet tall, gray and green. Walking out, they looked around curiously before turning towards X and Auto.

"Patrol this area," X instructed them; like all drones, they were unintelligent, only capable of what they were programmed and ordered to do, but they understood speech. "Go no further than five miles away from our people. A mole tank will be arriving shortly; aside from it and the crew aboard, anybody or anything that is not already here is an enemy. As soon as they are sighted, attack, and send one of your number here to report."

The drones all barked once in unison before turning and running off across the desert.

"Been up to no good, eh, X?" Zero called, approaching with an amused smirk on his face, King behind him. "Playing mad scientist in your spare time? What are those?"

"Garm drones," X explained. "They're the first of the new line me and Auto are going to be working on. We have to overcome our manpower shortage _somehow_. They won't be as good as Hunters or Robot Masters by a long shot, but they'll have their uses."

"I do not doubt it," King told them, an odd expression on his face. "They were modeled after Rush's design, weren't they?"

"Upgraded and sized up, but yeah," Auto said neutrally. "Only in form, though. No springs or jets or turning into armor or any of that. They're pure warbots."

"Once upon a time, I'd have hated using something like that," X mused aloud. "These days, though... I've got a lot of other things I hate more."

"Who doesn't?" Auto snorted. "I'm the one who should have been choking on his own tongue, using that poor pooch's blueprints to make something our family stood against as long as I can remember. But if those suckers can tilt the odds, even if only a little... we're not in a position to be picky any more."

"Is that the way it is, then?" Zero asked, looking more than slightly depressed. "Stick to your guns, and don't do what's wrong, until the day it's your only option?"

"If it was only our own lives we're fighting for, that would be one thing," X replied calmly, meeting his eyes. "But when the existence of three species is on the line, our choices are secondary. I don't care any more, as long as it saves us all. Saves the world. I'll do whatever I have to, to end this war... and live with my guilt when I can afford to."

"Yeah," Zero agreed quietly after a moment. He exchanged a glance with King, and they both turned away. "Yeah, I hear you. Watch your back out there, X. This is still just the beginning of the end, if it's even that."

"What was that about?" Auto asked bluntly as they walked off to take up their positions west of the train.

"It's no big deal," X told him, sighing as he watched the crew open up the rest of the train's cars and pull out the rest of the cargo. The last of their hoverbikes, which they would be use to serve as the convoy once the trip was underway. "Me and Zero are both changing. Not really a surprise, under the circumstances. This time, though, we're going in different directions. He's getting more like King, and I'm getting more like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Auto said, crossing his arms. "You aren't gonna start getting all weepy about it, are you?"

"Not the time." X shook his head. "Ask me again the next time he talks me into drinking too much." Before Auto could respond, the sands split, and Mecha's mole tank roared up out of the earth, coming to a halt near the open doors of the train.

"It's about fucking time!" Earl raged as the door of the tank opened and its operator, a solitary Napalm Man, jumped out. "What the hell took you? Never mind, I don't even want to know! Come on, let's go!"

"We should get out there," X told his brother, who nodded grimly.

"See you when the killing's done," Auto replied, and they both marched off. Once he'd reached the spot he'd chosen, atop a tall dune, X stood and watched as the loading continued behind him, seeming to go painfully slow despite his knowledge that that was only his perception of it. All the same, he didn't even try keeping track of how much time was passing; he knew from experience that that would only make it worse. He simply waited, until Alia spoke again.

"_They're coming, X!_" She shouted. "_They bought it! There's a massive enemy force headed straight towards you from the north! Airborne carriers, dozens of them!_"

"Damn!" He swore, as he saw the first few telltale explosions far in the distance; his and Auto's Garm drones, being taken out before they could even attack by a foe they were unable to reach. "I thought they hadn't rebuilt their fleet yet!"

"_They're dropships, not battlecruisers,_" she told him. "_Unarmed. The Faithful and Mavericks are shooting at the drones from out the doors._"

"All right." He nodded slowly, seeing a dark spot approaching quickly; one of the Garm units, returning to him as ordered. He dashed out to meet it, and it barked once as they approached each other. "Change of orders. Inform the others. Do _not _engage at the moment. Avoid contact until the enemy are on the ground, then attack those." The dog was silent for a few seconds as it relayed the command to its seriesmates, before barking once a second time, turning and dashing off once more. "Alia, how much longer until the train is loaded?"

"_Five minutes at the least._"

"Damn!" He repeated himself. "All right. We'll just have to hold them off. Here they come, people!" He raised his voice as the dropships Alia had told them about became visible, growing larger with alarming speed. "Don't let any of those things near the train!" He switched to his newest Master Weapon, one he'd taken from Blazin' Flizzard several months ago. The Fire Chain. Aiming at the closest dropship, he let loose a stream of connected fireballs that blazed towards it in a rising arc. Slamming into the front of the ship, it continued forward, burning through it and bringing it down.

"Oh, yeah!" Auto roared, and he glanced that way for an instant, just long enough to see his brother firing a massive missile, bringing another dropship down. Looking the other way, he saw King leaping twenty feet into the air, axe ready to swing. Behind him, Zero was undoubtedly doing his part to bring as many down as possible. Around them all, the Hunters and Robot Masters they'd brought with them followed their leaders' example, filling the sky with fire. And yet, he knew it wouldn't be enough.

"Some of them are going to get through!" He yelled, as he continued to bring down as many as he could. "Whatever you do, don't let them damage the train!" He stood his ground until the last of the attack force blasted over his head, before turning and dashing back, even as he saw them brake around and above the train. The mechanics were firing back with busters and magrifles, but the only one of them who was really doing much good was Earl, whose beam chakram flew around madly, seeking and destroying.

"Come on, assholes!" The burly reploid roared. "Just a few left! Squash 'em and let's get this show on the road!"

"Alia, who's leading them?" X demanded.

"_I haven't spotted any enemy commanders yet,_" she replied, sounding frustrated. "_I can't see inside those... wait. It's Dynamo! Dynamo's in there, X!_"

"Oh, _no_," X whispered, dashing forward even as he saw the silver-haired Maverick appear in the doorway of the last transport, leaping out of it towards Earl. His beam staff flashed, knocking away the spinning chakram, and he landed before his target. Their mouths were moving, but X couldn't hear them, as he fired off a charged shot, too late. Even as it soared towards Dynamo's back, the Maverick General was already ramming one end of his staff into Earl's stomach up to the hilt, impaling him. Earl twitched, reaching out for him, before sliding back off of it, limp.

"_Dynamo!_" X roared, as the enemy leader ducked the shot without even looking. Turning, he smirked at X, saluting mockingly.

"Too slow, X!" He called, before turning and dashing away, killing a Quick Man who tried to stop him and hurdling the corpse as it fell.

"Bastard!" Zero howled as they all converged on Earl; their men were killing the last of the attackers, and the train was unharmed, but the damage had been done regardless. "I'm gonna tear his-"

"We have no time," King cut him off, his voice sharper than usual, as he bent over Earl. After a moment, he exhaled. "Alive, but he's gone into auto-stasis. He's going to need full repairs before we bring him back up."

"_Damn _him," X growled. "He figured out the easiest way to stop us. He didn't _have _to destroy the train. All he had to do was take down the only guy who knows how to run it."

"Then he failed," another voice joined them, and they all turned to Douglas as he approached, his face grim. "Earl isn't the only one. I can drive that thing just as well as he can. I'll do it."

"You're not a combatant," X stated the obvious, feeling slightly ridiculous about doing so. "We'll keep them off your backs as long as we can, but chances are _some _of them are going to be able to get in there with you. And even if they don't, you won't be able to fight your way clear of them when you get close and bail out."

"Yeah," Douglas said, meeting his eyes calmly. "I know." Nobody spoke for several moments.

"So," King said finally. "That's it."

"That's it," Douglas repeated. "We have to pull this one off, guys. If we call it quits now, they might send more people up into space after the others. Our job is to keep their attention for as long as possible, no matter what." He looked from one of them to the next, his gaze and his voice both steady. "No matter what."

"He's right," Zero said quietly, averting his eyes. "And we don't have time to argue about it. If this thing isn't off and running before the next group arrives, we're sunk."

"_Another wave is coming!_" Alia warned them, confirming Zero's statement. "_Ground troops and airborne drones!_"

"Take a bike in there with you," X told his friend. "When you're almost there, if you're still alive..." He trailed off, unable to finish; he knew how unlikely it was to work, even if Douglas made it that far.

"Not much chance of that," Douglas replied bluntly, before smiling. "But I'll take anything I can get. Thanks, guys. Now let's get this sucker going."

**December 31, 2186, 11:30 PM **

**The Wasteland **

Douglas, Chief Mechanic of the Maverick Hunters for more than forty years, gazed over the desert and realized that he was about to die.

It only gave him pause for a moment, and then he simply nodded to himself, accepting it. He'd been afraid of dying once, when he was younger, back when he'd first joined the MHHQ. He'd been just another mechanic back then, working under his predecessor, a cute blonde who'd eventually resigned along with her boyfriend from the 17th, leaving Signas to appoint Douglas as her predecessor. It had only been after his first close call, when an escaped prisoner had nearly ripped him to shreds, that he'd realized that if it _had _happened, he'd have had no worries and no regrets.

"No worries, and no regrets," he murmured; it had a nice ring to it. "That's what they should put on it. 'No worries, and no regrets.' I like how that sounds."

"On what, boss?" Leeroy asked, closing the door of the last car to be loaded.

"My tombstone, if I get one," he explained. "Dunno if I even will, these days. But if I do, that's what I want on it, okay?"

"None of that, boss," Sonia told him. "You're gonna pull this off and come home a hero."

"I'm not the one who needs to cut the crap," he told her, more sternly than usual, though he couldn't keep it up for long. "Look, I'll try, but we're all realists here. We're not front line, any of us. Non-combatants going up there never ends well, no matter the circumstances. If I make it, I'll buy the first round, but if I don't... remember it, okay, guys?"

"We will," she replied quietly.

"You'd _better _come back, boss," Ivan warned him. "None of us can find our asses without you, even _if _we use both hands. Garage'll be in a sorry state."

"Nice try, but nah." Douglas shook his head, smiling tightly. "You guys are clowns, but you're _smart _clowns, and professional too. And even if you weren't, we've got Auto now. He'll take care of all the yelling you need, and then some."

"Douglas!" Zero called from the head of the train.

"Coming!" He shouted back before turning to his men; with the loading done, they were all clustered around him in a half-circle. The looks on their faces made it clear what they were thinking, despite the banter. "You get the control car rigged up the way I asked?"

"You got it, boss," Leeroy promised. "We used two whole belts of sticky grenades. Look..."

"We don't have time, guys," he cut him off, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I need to go, before that next wave gets here. It's been an honor, and more importantly, it's been fun. I'll see you around." Smiling, he turned and quickly walked to the head of the car. Nobody else stopped him; they knew that time was at a premium, and they'd already said everything that was necessary. All that was left was to finish the job, just the way he liked it. As he climbed into the car, he met X's eyes, and then Zero's. The three of them nodded, once, simultaneously, and then he was closing the door behind him.

"Hey, Fio," he said as he sat down before the control panel, starting the train up with one hand while tapping his helmet comm with the other. "Give it to me straight. How's it look?"

"_Bad,_" the Navigator said quietly. "_They've got a whole army out there heading this way, not even counting the drones. Some of those are airborne, too. It's not going to be easy getting through that._"

"Yeah, well, easy hasn't really been an option for a while now," he reminded her. "All I care about is possible. Can we do it?"

"_Yes,_" she admitted after a moment, sounding reluctant. "_It'll be difficult, but... it's possible that we'll be able to get the train to its destination._"

"Then that's all I need to know," Douglas said, as a humming sound began to grow louder around him, the ancient train coming to life for one last run.

"_No, it's not,_" she replied sharply. "_You're talking about throwing your life away like it's just... just another day, to you. Like it's some part that needs to be replaced._"

"Do I really sound like that?" He asked whimsically. "That's not how I see it, really. Are the weapons on this thing automated?"

"_They are, but you can override that and operate them manually,_" she explained dutifully. "_On the switchboard to your right. What _do_ you see this as, then?_"

"I wondered what that was," he admitted, glancing at the rightmost control panel, jury-rigged at a later date than the rest had been built. "Thanks. Should probably leave that alone; my aim isn't all that great." He thought for a moment, as the train started moving forward. "This? This is another mission, Fio. That's what we do, in the Maverick Hunters. Soldiers and staff alike. We get the job done. That's the first priority, and sometimes, that means casualties. No helping it."

"_So, that's it?_" She asked quietly. "_That's all there is?_"

"That's all," he repeated. "There are times when I wished it wasn't, but..." Trailing off, he shrugged. "Here we are, and this is the only way. If this is what it takes to blow that factory, then we'll do it." He glanced over his shoulder at the hoverbike leaning against the back of the car's interior. "Besides, don't go writing me off just yet. Maybe I'll get away."

"_Maybe_," she agreed, sounding dubious.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to start thinking you've been secretly carrying a torch for me, all these years," he joked. The train was picking up speed, and up ahead, he could see the first attackers.

"_Oh, please,_" she shot back, sounding more normal, which was what he'd been going for. "_It was fun when we had our thing, but you weren't _that_ good. Don't let it get you down; I haven't met the guy who is._"

"I'm not really sure how to take that," he said blandly, glancing out the windshield first to his left and then to his right, making sure that the convoy of bike-riding Hunters was accompanying him. As the enemy approached, they began trading shots. The train's own guns soon joined in, as did the Hunters atop the cargo cars, and soon the air was filled with flying plasma and metal going both ways. "And I took a lot of things from you, back then."

"_It went both ways, as I recall,_" she replied slyly, and he chuckled; he had a lot of friends among the Navigators, Alia among them, but Fio had always been his favorite, thanks to their similar outlooks on life in general. They'd had a fling a decade or so back, and eventually they'd both moved on, staying friends afterward; he'd always looked back on it fondly, and so had she.

"Shit!" He cursed suddenly as the train shook around him. "What was that?"

"_The third car took a hit_," she reported. "_It didn't penetrate, and X took out the guy who did it._"

"Good," he grunted. "If even one of those goes up, they _all _go up, and we die on top of failing the mission."

"_N__ot going to happen,_" she said firmly. "_It was a fluke. I know how that sounds, but it really was. The Hunters are better than the__y are__. All they have is numbers, and they brought a lot, but not enough._"

"That worries me a little, actually," he pointed out. "Like you said, they've got enough. If they didn't send as many as we thought they would, they might have gone after the guys up in space too."

"_I didn't say _that," she protested mildly. "_Just that there wouldn't be enough. You're still going to be __fending them off all the way to the finish line._"

"Oh, well, _that's _just business as usual," he shot back, accelerating even further. "You didn't think it was going to be _easy_, did you?"

"_Do I _look_ like a rookie to you?_" She retorted. "_It's _never_ easy in the Maverick Hunters. I learned _that _my first month._"

"Damn straight," he said, before wincing as the door blew inwards. "Shit. Either you just tempted fate, or I did. What was that?"

"_Rocket,_" she explained, all humor gone from her voice. "_I don't see anybody trying to boar__d__._"

"Not yet, anyways," he pointed out. Up ahead, off in the distance, he caught his first glimpse of his final destination; the factory, growing from a tiny dot to a distinct shape in only a few seconds, and getting larger quickly. "That was the setup. The punch line's still incoming."

"_It is!_" She said sharply. "_Dropship at ten o' clock, coming in fast! The rest of them are already focusing on anybody who tries shooting it down! It'll be here in less than a minute!_"

"Shit," Douglas muttered under his breath, looking out the windshield and seeing it approach. Glancing at the panel that controlled the train's guns, he set them to focus on that dropship even as he locked in the course, using the emergency sequence that would make it impossible to change it. Once that was done, his hand found the trigger that was his last, personal defense measure. "Can you see who's on board?"

"_No, but I'd bet my next paycheck it's __a__ Disciple," _she guessed._ "If he gets in, Douglas..._"

"Don't worry about me," he assured her, as the dropship spiraled overhead. "I come prepared." As it shot past to the right, it went up in flames, and he took a moment to savor the sight before glancing over his shoulder. "Almost got you, there."

"Almost," the woman who'd jumped from the ship and landed in the open doorway replied, smiling. "But not quite." She was as beautiful as they came, her white-and-gold uniform tight on her curvaceous frame, blond hair curling out from her helmet, an ambiguous smile on her lips. Only her eyes ruined the effect, glittering with the same insanity as the rest of the Faithful. Her eyes, and the wicked knife she was toying with; more of them were sheathed all over her body, some metal blades and others bare hilts, beam daggers unactivated at the moment.

"Not he, Fio," Douglas corrected her absently. "She. Cubit Foxtar, I presume?"

"And you would be Douglas," she replied. "A pleasure."

"Wish I could say the same," he bantered; the longer he kept her talking, the better. "But even if you were interested, we don't really have the time. I'm surprised you know me, to be honest. Flattered, too." He sighed theatrically. "Gotta admit, though. Finally being done in by a hot chick? There are _so _many layers of irony to that it's not even funny."

"Oh, I'm sure," she replied, smile widening. "At least, if the stories I've heard are at all true. A pity, indeed, but as you said, I do have to kill you quickly. The question is, _how _quickly would you like it?"

"I'm an old-fashioned guy," he confessed, as he pressed the trigger he still held behind his back, detonating the sticky grenades his men had placed around the car. The name held a double meaning; not only were they adhesive, they detonated in a spray of glutinous coagulent, filling the entire car and pinning them both as it thickened instantly upon contact with oxygen. "I prefer to take it slow."

"What _is _this?" Foxtar yowled, struggling to break free and failing. Jabbing at the mess with a knife only succeeded in having the weapon pulled from her grasp, just as stuck.

"I'm not a combatant," Douglas explained, smiling grimly; the factory was just up ahead, still growing larger and closer. "But I figured somebody might get in here. Had the boys rig the place up just in case. Don't bother. With that much of that stuff, a Chimera mech couldn't break free."

"Impressive," Foxtar said, no longer smiling. "But I'm afraid it's not quite that easy!" Her skin and clothes tore and twisted, as did the goo, and she burst free, transformed into an androgynous vulpine reploid. "My name is Cubit Foxtar, the Soul Disciple! Burn for me!"

Unfazed, Douglas activated the second set of grenades, trapping her again.

"Figured you'd do that, too," he said calmly as she cursed and raged helplessly. "But hey, look at it this way. Don't know about _you_, but I always wanted to go out with a bang." He looked out the windshield one more time-his head was all he could move now-and nodded at what we saw. "Here we go. Sorry, Fio. I'll see you next time." He regarded the Disciple glaring at him, considering his last words, and he smiled as he recalled a story X had told him once, of a Hunter before his time. "In the words of my generation, lady... up yours."

And then, in the flash of a blade and a flower of fire the size of a city, they died together. In that instant, Foxtar split into two mirror images, one vanishing and the other remaining.

"_I hate when they do that,_" a Robot Master cloaked in gray said as Douglas blinked in surprise. "_Hey, buddy. It's Douglas, right? __Just a sec, __and I'll be right with you__. Oi. Bitch. C'mere._"

**February 1, 2187, Noon **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"_In light of recent world affairs, it has become clear that the Maverick Hunters are the only hope for the future of our country, and its people. Therefore, we have decided to follow the example of our fellow nations, and place all government and military power under the control of the Hunters until this crisis has passed. We pray for __your__ success, and for __our __survival._"

Signas was unaware of how long he'd been sitting in his office, staring silently at the message he had received from the President of Cuba, when he was finally disturbed. Whether it was seconds, minutes or hours, he had no idea. He simply gazed blankly at the final words, and everything they implied, alone with the lights dimmed. He didn't even look, or move at all, when the door opened and Tai walked in.

"Commander Signas, I..." The Chinese reploid started to say before trailing off. "Commander, is something wrong?"

"From my perspective, yes," Signas said after a moment, his voice leaden. "Others would not see it in the same light, I suspect. Indeed, I daresay many people would wish to be in the position I currently occupy, though perhaps not under these circumstances."

"Sir?" Tai blinked, confused.

"Come here, Tai," Signas told him, beckoning, and the younger reploid walked around his desk. "Read this." He waited patiently as Tai finished the message, his eyes growing slowly wider as he continued.

"Sir..." He stammered. "This is..."

"Yes." Signas slowly raised a hand to his face, wishing for just a moment for nothing more than to be able to find somewhere he could pull a rock over himself and vanish, from the war and the politics and everything else that his life had become against his will. "The last one. With the obvious exceptions of Maverick City and the Devil's Sea... as of today, I am now military dictator of the entire civilized world, in sole possession of absolute power. The day which I have dreaded for the past decade has finally come."

"But it's only temporary, sir," Tai protested, but the doubt was already showing in his eyes. "When this war is over, you'll return power to the world leaders, and allow them to rebuild under their own control." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Won't you?"

"There may not be much, if anything at all, left to be rebuilt, Tai." Signas shook his head slowly. "The destruction of all city-states lost to the enemy has been complete. Nothing remains there that has not been swallowed by the wasteland. I have no doubt that any further losses will follow in that same pattern."

"If there are further losses, sir," Tai argued gamely. "Ever since Operation Starnet's success, it's been quiet."

A month had passed since the Maverick Hunters' desperate gambit to regain at least partial control over their situation had succeeded. Though the newsies had of course called it as victory with a bang rather than a whimper, the truth was just the opposite. When word had come of the train attack's success, the Hunters had breathed a sigh of relief, tempered with regret at the news of what it had cost them, but nobody had relaxed. Only when attempts at warping had been tested, resulting in failure, had they known for sure that they'd won the day, if not the war.

The wasteland team had been the first to return, confirming what they had reported; Douglas had given his life to ensure the plan's success, the latest in a series of friends and colleagues lost to the war. Though Earl had been grievously wounded as well, along with several others, they had all recovered; the burly mechanic from Mecha had taken the news of Douglas' death hard, though it had reduced the frequency of his tantrums. Soon after, those who had journeyed to the stars had come home as well, bringing news of a short but intense firefight before they'd gotten the EM bubble around the satellites up.

Though enemy forces had come after them before long, fortunately, the diversion had worked; the number of attackers had been much lower than that of those sent to stop the train, and the team sent to set up the Starnet had succeeded in repelling them. The EM bubbles had stopped further attempts, and they'd finished the operation in peace. Earth was now covered in an invisible web of EM fields, and warp technology had been reduced to a fraction of its former use, for ally and enemy alike. The die had been cast.

The enemy's response to this move had been surprising, and disturbing as well, though not in the sense Signas had become accustomed to. Following the creation of the Starnet, it had been only a few days before the enemy presence around the five other city-states remaining aside from Tokyo and Mecha had doubled, reinforcements pouring in by air and land both. The Hunters had harried them on the way over, but had been unable to stop them, and all five cities were now surrounded even more direly than before.

What was strange was the lack of actual aggression over the past month. While the enemy had made it clear that their intent was unchanged, and any attempts to escape from the cities under siege had been dealt with quickly and viciously, not a single one of the forces had actually attacked the walls since the Starnet had gone up. They maintained the siege and nothing more, as if waiting for some sign before continuing their campaign of absolute destruction. It was obvious that the enemy was planning something, but what that something was remained aggravatingly unknown.

Most troubling of all was the fact that nobody had seen either Wily or Sigma for the entire month, their whereabouts unknown.

"Don't be fooled, Tai," Signas told him, shaking his head. "They're up to something. That's all this is. Those are Infected Mavericks and religious zealots we're talking about. If they're not trying to kill people right now, it's only because their masters have commanded them so. We will see more death and destruction before this war is concluded, even should we triumph in the end. And if we do... who knows what will remain to those of us who survive." He shook his head slowly. "No, Tai. They speak of temporary measures, but we all know otherwise."

"Then you intend to keep your power?" Tai asked quietly.

"I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of humanity, and reploidkind as well," Signas told him calmly. "And yes, even the Robot Masters." He met the younger reploid's eyes. "If that means your government will order you to kill me, Tai, then I only ask that you make your attempt to my face." He placed no particular emphasis on the word "attempt."

"You knew," Tai said softly after a moment. "You always knew."

"I suspected," Signas replied quietly. "Well?"

"That will not be necessary," Tai told him, shaking his head. "My orders in that regard have already changed. Premier Li believes that your survival is integral to that of our people. I am now instructed to guard your life with my own, should it become necessary." He smiled. "In truth, I was glad for that. Already, I felt a great deal of conflicting interest. To be perfectly honest, I have felt more at home among the Hunters than I ever did in China. Had that order been given, I am unsure if I would have been able to perform it."

"Hm." Signas slowly nodded. "As you say. Very well. You will continue your duties as you have before. You are far from the only agent of another nation present in my home now." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Returning to a previous subject, I assume that the situation in all occupied territories remains unchanged?"

"Yes, sir." Tai nodded. "The enemy remain in position, but they have yet to attack."

"What of the Disciples?" Signas asked, staring up at the ceiling. "And Sigma's generals, as well? How are they currently deployed?"

"Five of each are currently known," the Chinese reploid reported. "The others are currently absent, as are their leaders, their whereabouts unknown."

"Name them."

"In Nova Scotia, Childre Inarabitta and Bit," Tai told him. "In Cuba, Blazin' Flizard and Byte. In New Shirewick, Glacier Le Cactank and Fluid Ferret. In Vladivostok, Cubit Foxtar and Doctor Doppler. And in New Korea, Hellbat Schilt and Double."

"Leaving Deathtanz Mantisk, Volteel Biblio and Tretista Kelverian of the Faithful, and the X-Hunters and Dynamo among the Mavericks," Signas said grimly. "Not to mention Sigma and Wily. The Mavericks trouble me more than the Faithful, in this regard. Individually, the X-Hunters are inferior in combat to Ferret and Double. The fact that all three are currently being held in reserve implies that when they return to the field, they will do so together. When fighting as a single unit, the three of them are all but invincible."

"You suspect an impending attack upon Tokyo," Tai replied quietly.

"It will come," Signas told him. "I do not know how much time we will have before it does, but it will come. And when it does... five Units are not enough to repel it." They'd deployed their forces as best they could, but at the moment, only twenty Units of the original thirty remained. With warp transit no longer available, Signas had had no choice but to station three in each of the other city-states remaining, leaving only five to defend Tokyo in case of an attack. "Even if reinforcements from Mecha come to our defense, it will not suffice. Not forever."

"The attack hasn't come yet, sir," Tai reminded him. "The Navigators are keeping constant vigil over the entire globe, and have not reported any signs of further mobilization. There is still time to see to our defenses."

"Indeed there is." Signas slowly nodded. "And we must make the most of the time we have." His eyes narrowed. "If this is the day in which I do what I fear most, then so be it. I will not falter in my duty. We must do anything and everything we can in order to succeed, and to survive. And no matter how I detest this role I have been forced to accept, it provides me with options unavailable to me before. Please remain silent until I have finished, Tai."

"Of course, sir," the other reploid murmured as Signas activated the camera attacked to his desk terminal, and began recording.

"People of Earth, I am Signas, Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters," he said calmly, steepling his hands on the desk before him. "As of 0900 hours today, Tokyo time, I am also military commander-in-chief of the alliance of civilized nations which remains of human, reploid and Robot Master society. I possess absolute power over all remaining government and military institutions, and will continue to until this war has ended and peace has returned. I do not relish this position, but I intend to serve the people to the best of my ability so long as I hold it.

With that aim in mind, I am now offering amnesty to all non-Infected Mavericks, as well as human criminals, who are willing to join us in defending our very existence. It has become apparent that your lives are in as much danger as our own. Regardless of past crimes, if you come to us and are willing to be tested for Infection, I vow to personally guarantee a complete pardon for all previous crimes. Fight with us, and at the conclusion of the war, you will be permitted to go your own way freely, without fear of punishment.

I realize that this is an unprecedented offer, but we live in unprecedented times. To those who object, I can only remind you that our situation is dire. For the survival of our species, human and robot alike, we must accept any assistance available, regardless of our personal feelings on the matter. To those who would doubt the truth of my words, remember that the enemy will kill you or infect you as readily as us. For better or for worse, we must unite, or we will perish, one and all. I trust that you will make the right decision." He ended the recording then, before slumping in his chair.

"Sir," Tai said after a moment. "Are you sure that was the right thing to do?"

"I am," Signas murmured, unsure even himself if he was being honest. "I must be. I no longer have the luxury of doubt. If I am wrong, then we are lost. I must believe that I have made the right choice. I must." Sighing, he sent the recording to Simon, with a short message instructing him to have it broadcast globally as soon as possible. "There. It is done."

"Then I, too, will trust your judgment," Tai told him, bowing his head. "As I have since the day I came to this building."

"Thank you, Tai," Signas said simply. "I need that, right now." After a moment, he chuckled wryly. "And yet, we both grow absent-minded. I am sure there is a reason you came to see me."

"Ah." Tai flushed. "Yes, but... it is not as important as this."

"My other duties can wait, for the moment," Signas told him. "Speak."

"A message from Premier Li," the Chinese reploid explained. "One she did not trust to electronic means. She wished me to warn you of something which Prime Minister Kakei remains unaware, though not for long. A measure which most of the world leaders will bring before him and the others who do not yet know today. With the responsibilities you now hold, they will insist that you appoint a designated successor, in the event of your death."

"I see." Signas frowned. "They are aware of Hunter policy on the position of Commanding Officer. Direct appointment by the previous occupant is not our way."

"They will tell you that in lieu of the war, even an hour's uncertainty may prove fatal," Li explained. "And I do not doubt that they will use the offer you have just extended as additional pressure. They will say that it is a small concession, in return for what they have already given you."

"Ignoring the fact that I never wanted it in the first place." Signas closed his eyes. "Very well. It's not like it is a difficult question. There is only one possibility, and I have known it for some time now. All that remains is to make it official." He began to type again, composing a brief message, which he then sent to all top personnel, with instructions only to open it in the event of his demise. "There. It is done."

"Very good, sir," Tai murmured, not asking who it was; it might have been politeness, but Signas considered it far more likely that he already knew. As he'd said, it was fairly obvious; part of the reason he'd consented was that he doubted it would even be necessary. "I will-"

Before he could even finish the sentence, alarms blared.

"No," Signas whispered, then roared. "_No!_" Jumping to his feet, he activated his helmet communicator. "Alia!"

"_They're coming, sir!_" She shouted back. "_Thousands of them!_"

"Where?" He demanded. "Where are they coming from? Why didn't you see them?"

"_The ocean floor!_" She reported, and his eyes widened in horrified realization. "_We're picking up carriers and attack ships rising from the bottom of the ocean all around us! They've got the entire island completely surrounded!_"

"Tai, to your station!" Signas shouted, and the other reploid snapped off a quick salute before departing, as he switched his communicator to general address, sending his voice throughout the entire base as well as most of the city. "All Hunters, prepare for battle! Tokyo is under attack! I repeat, Tokyo is under attack!"


	16. Chapter 14: Rising Waters

_**Chapter 14: Rising Waters **_

**Duo's Log 098 **

**36573 Earth Days since departure**  
>My journey has finally ended.<p>

It has been a very long time, though I no longer take note of that. It was not always thus; during the early days of my journey, I was highly conscious of its passing around me, carrying me inevitably into the future though I was free of solar cycles to measure it. I only kept track through my own internal chronometer, one which was never reset from Earth. This was only a rough estimate, of course, due to the nature of time itself, but a partial solution was better than none and I relied upon it regardless to help me remember just how long it had been.

As my journey continued, I gradually grew less and less interested in such things. With the growth of my abilities came the knowledge of my own eventual success, and once I had taken that for a fact, how long it would be became a matter of academic interest. My body does not age, nor does it feel the many hazards of intergalactic travel. Even should I be injured (for example, the unfortunate incident involving the supernova), I have learned to use my power to regenerate and reconstruct any part of my body damaged.

The last occasion on which I took any real note of time was upon my return to the stars, after aiding my fellow survivors on Earth. I knew then that my voyage would continue to its conclusion uninterrupted by anything else, and that was all that I cared for. It mattered not how much longer it would take, and still does not. By the standards of Earth, I would now be called ancient almost beyond belief, and yet, it is irrelevant. I simply kept going, further and further into the unexplored reaches of the universe, searching each planet I encountered in turn for traces of civilization, and moving on when none were found.

I have catalogued each and every one individually throughout the course of these logs, describing their locations, their natures, and their attributes as thoroughly as my capabilities allow. I have no training as a writer, no gift for prose or poetry, and so I would be unsurprised to find that another reader would find this personal travelogue to be lacking in flavor and color. Nevertheless, I have kept it, for the purpose of knowledge gathered alone. Perhaps someday, this information will be of use to those who I do not know, and perhaps not. I have done what I could, all the same.

Throughout my journey, I have continued to follow the path of my own future, as clearly visible to me now as the stars in the sky. I watched as it gradually grew shorter and shorter, as I drew closer and closer to my destination with each galaxy. I waited patiently, continuing my exploration, knowing that one day I would find the one which I sought. The homeworld that my kind, and our enemies, first came from without any memory of doing so. And I knew that when I did, with the planet itself would come the answers to all my questions.

Even when I reached the galaxy which I sensed would be the one, I did not hurry, nor attempt to break away from the path I followed. I explored each planet in turn as patiently as before, one by one, following the trail of time until at last I entered the solar system containing my final destination. I visited the planets orbiting that system's sun, each in turn, until I reached the second closest, a temperate planet similar to Earth in many ways and yet different in others just as numerous. My own future led me there, and I knew as I descended that this would be the one.

From space, it is neither particularly beautiful nor especially ugly, a sphere of red and purple and other colors in between, ones which do not exist on Earth and have not been named in written language by those who live there. While I could give them names myself, as I have expressed in other parts of my travelogue, I lack the artistic sense necessary to do them justice, and so have refrained from that course of action. Let those more suited to such things do so, if they wish. I will not make a mockery of them through untalented buffoonery.

As a side note, however, they are closer to pink than anything else, though even then only slightly.

Regardless, I took some time to enjoy the sight before I began my descent to the planet's surface. In the process of doing so, I witnessed something new, something which startled me despite how many others I have seen. As the sky above turned gradually from black to indigo, a much deeper color than the light blue of Earth, a phenomenon began to occur similar to that planet's aurora borealis. Here, however, it consisted of those colors which I have previously described rather than those familiar to me, altering the entire effect more than slightly.

The effect faded as my approach ended, and by the time I touched down on the dusty ground below, the sky had returned to its normal hue, the red sun tinting the area around it vibrantly. The combination of colors has had interesting effects on the nature of light throughout the entire world, ones which it would take a more artistic hand than mine to accurately describe. Though I admired it, I soon moved on to other concerns. My reasons for seeking out this world remained unanswered, and I sought to rectify that.

Soon, concerns began to arise in my mind, as I continued to explore the planet's surface. Though the planet proved environmentally diverse, I began to notice what was missing, completely absent despite the presence of all other components of a healthy planet. I explored deserts and oceans, mountains and caverns, glaciers and magma vents and barren wastelands alike, and yet something was absent from all of them. Something which nagged at my mind more and more, as I continued to wander the planet.

There was no trace of biological life present upon the world whatsoever, past or present.

This is not a particularly noteworthy trait, by itself. Indeed, planets capable of supporting life have been the exception rather than the norm throughout my voyage among the stars. Even among those, all examples which I found were at a level far below anything on Earth, the most intelligent an apex predator devoid of sentience. However, this was no ordinary planet. This was my home, the world upon which my kind were created, or so I had believed, and the lack of anything supporting that belief once I had finally arrived troubled me greatly. For the first time, I wondered if my visions had led me astray.

And yet, other signs indicated that the path I had seen was true. Though no life was present, the planet itself bore traces of having been altered deliberately in the past, millennia ago. Mining for valuable ores and materials had occurred, in many locations around the globe, and war at a high level of technology as well, which only further supported my belief that both my kind and our enemies originated here. I can only assume that our conflict existed even then, before we left our planet behind and scattered ourselves throughout the universe.

In time, my faith was rewarded. Eventually, I found what I had sought. The remnants of a civilization, long abandoned by its creators. _My _civilization. The civilization of my people, and those who first created us. It was only when I journeyed to the planet's south pole, one of its most inhospitable locations, that I found the empty ruins I had searched far and wide for. Soon afterward, I made a journey to the north pole as well, and after a period of exploration, I was able to successfully locate a second city, as empty as the previous.

It was no surprise that they eluded me for so long, for both cities were heavily concealed, built inside natural rock formations that provided at least some shelter from the elements while also hiding them from all sight, even orbital. Why this was necessary, and why these most inhospitable of locales were chosen for the construction of civilization at all, is still a mystery to me, though I suspect the answer is in some way related to the eternal enmity between my kind and our opposites. In time, I will find that answer, and all others as well.

This is my homeworld. I can feel the traces of the energy once used by my kind here, though none remains, just as I sense the remnants of the evil power that once filled the northern city. This planet may be empty of life, both biological or mechanical, but their technology has survived them, and with it their records. The language is unfamiliar to me, but I will learn it, no matter how long it takes. And when I have, then I will know at last what it is I am, and for what purpose I was created.

**February 1, 2187, Noon **

**Mecha **

His rooms in District 1 were nice enough, as they went; they had everything he needed, which was mainly a stasis capsule and somewhere to keep the rest of his possessions, though he didn't have many. Coming back to life after thirty years out would do that to you. He'd been meaning to find something else to put in there, to make them feel a little more like they were _his_, but he'd never gotten around to it, and after a while he'd given up. There was nothing wrong with them, but they didn't feel like _home_, the way the MHHQ had, and he doubted they ever would.

"More than a year, and I still can't stop thinking it's not going to be too much longer," Zero muttered under his breath as he walked through the halls of the Kingdome, a datapad in hand. He was due to take a mole tank over to Cuba later, but for the moment, he had a few hours of free time. Rather than relax, he'd used the time to plan for the future, for the climax of the war that they were all committed to now, human and reploid and Robot Master alike. A finale that loomed close now, with only a few haggard remnants of civilization remaining to stand against the forces of madness.

The Hunters would deal with Wily, and his Faithful. Reluctantly, Zero had conceded that to them. As much as he yearned to confront the madman who called himself his father, who had caused his existence to be accursed since before he had first awakened, he knew that that duty belonged to X more than himself. Just as Rock Light had stopped the maniac's ambitions time and time again, so his heir and brother would end them once and for all. X would settle it. His trust in that fact, in the brother he had called his own long before he'd learned his true heritage, was absolute.

Sigma was another matter. Sigma, and the Maverick Virus. _That _conflict had begun at a much later date, but it was the one that he had lived with for nearly his entire life, long before Wily had returned to the world. And because of that, despite his knowledge of his family's accursed history, it was the fight with Sigma and the Virus that felt most personal of all for Zero Omega. _That _was the problem he had been trying to solve over the past few months, with King's assistance. And until today, they'd both come up blank.

The Maverick Virus had no body. She was unique among humans, Robot Masters, reploids and Faithful in that her consciousness existed without a physical form of her own. She was a living infection, a sentient piece of code that corrupted with a touch, spreading from victim to victim and making them her own. If the people of Mecha were right, and it _was _a she, then even that gender was vestigial, ornamental. The closest she had to a body of her own was that of her Prime Maverick, and that role could be changed at her whim whenever she desired.

How did you kill something without a body that could die? That was the question that plagued Zero, and the more time passed without an answer forthcoming, the more desperate he became to find one. That was why he was heading towards the lab where one of the Scion's Zenith, one of the few who never took the front lines, could be found. In the end, he'd only been able to think of a single, grim solution, and there weren't many people whose help he could seek without trouble. Only those who he trusted with more than his life, those who were just as much like family to him as King, were available. And there was only one of those who had the medical knowledge to make it happen.

"Oh, it's you," Hazil, former Chief of the MHHQ's medical department, grumbled as Zero walked in, looking up from whatever it was he was working on at the moment. "What're you hanging around here for, huh? Thought you'd be doing what you did best."

"I'm off to that in a few hours." Zero chuckled, unruffled; he and Hazil had known each other long enough that polite words were both unnecessary and undesirable, for both of them. "While I've got the time, though, figured I'd drop in and talk to you about something."

"Yeah, sure," the old reploid-one of the oldest of all, his life stretching back to the days of the 1st Unit under Sigma himself before his fall-grumbled irascibly. "Like I ain't got nothing better to do with my time than shoot the shit with you all day long, especially since I'm still having to cover for Countess."

"I heard about that." Zero frowned; he wasn't as close to Corbun's creations as he was to King and Hazil, but they were still comrades and friends, ones he'd fought beside many times during the course of the war. "How's she doing?"

"Better," Hazil grunted. "She'll be good to go back to the front line again soon, and when she is, she'll be back to work here too. Until then, though..." He shook his head.

"This is why you don't just send civilians into the worst case scenario without seasoning them on small stuff first," Zero muttered without any real bite, looking away. "Dammit." After a moment, he glanced back at Hazil. "Well, I wanted to talk to you anyways, so it's just as well nobody else is in here right now."

"Not sure I like the sounds of that," the old doctor told him, making a face. "If this is some torrid confession, I ain't interested."

"You wish, you old hack." Zero blew a raspberry. "The day I come to _you _with that in mind is the day I eat my saber." The sarcasm left his voice as he continued. "This is something more important than that. And you're the only doc I know I'd trust with it."

"Oh." Hazil blinked. "This is _serious_." After a moment, he pushed his chair back from the terminal he'd been typing on and met Zero's eyes. "All right. I'm listening."

"It's about the Maverick Virus," he explained; as soon as he'd said those words, the doctor's face grew even more grim than usual. Hazil had been with the Hunters from the beginning, since before the Virus had awakened, and he shared with Zero a loathing for it that exceeded even that of veteran Hunters as a result. "I've been trying to figure out a way to destroy it." He paused for a moment, then scowled. "No. Not to destroy it. To _kill _it. To kill _her_."

"Her, huh." Hazil raised an eyebrow, neither approving nor condemning. "I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and skip asking if that means you're buying into all the religious bullshit they've got going around here."

"Appreciated," Zero said dryly. "Yeah, no. I'm with King on that crap. But what they know that went _into _that... all the stuff about my family and X's... that all checks out. Which makes me figure they might be right about the Virus, too." He sighed. "More than that... it _feels _right, when I think about it. And _that's _something I'd rather _not _think about."

"Understandable," Hazil agreed, crossing his arms and tapping the fingers of his right hand. "You've heard about what the guys down here tried. Countess' Silver Bullet. It's done better than anybody else has managed."

"Yeah, I know about that stuff," Zero told him. "Standard equipment for Hunters now in case they get infected. Even then, all it does is give you a chance to break free. If you can't perform internal self-deletion when you get the opening, you're still gone. And as for Sigma..." He grimaced. "_Something's _different about him. Something off. I'm not sure what it is, but there _is _something weird going on there. Problem is, it's not enough."

"No, it ain't," Hazil agreed, eyes dimming. "But you're right. If I didn't know better, from what I've seen... I'd _almost _think he was acting like his old self. And I mean _old._ Not before he was infected, but..."

"During the First Rebellion," Zero finished for him. "Before he came back to life. I remember. But even then, he was still a murdering bastard."

"Yeah." Hazil said sharply, the light returning to his eyes. "It's interesting, I'll grant you, but hell if I can see what good it's actually doing us. I was the first to agree that it was worth a shot at the time, but so far, it hasn't worked. Hoping it does something else later on is a losing bet. And nobody here's been able to come up with anything better, even with all the data Countess used to make the damn thing."

"Right." Zero nodded. "Which is why I've been trying to come up with something myself." He smirked. "How's _that _for a sign of the apocalypse? _Me_, actually thinking with my brain instead of my blade. Continuously, even."

"Please." Hazil rolled his eyes. "Compared to some yahoos we used to get in the Hunters? You're a friggin' genius."

"I can't really argue that one, but I feel like I should," Zero muttered, thinking back to some of the space cases the Hunters had seen over the years. "Anyways, I think I might have come up with something. But you're not going to like it."

"No, I'm not," Hazil said sourly. "If that's what you're starting with, you're damn right. All right, first things first. Before you explain anything else, _t__ell _me that this crackpot plan doesn't involve some form of suicide."

Zero raised a finger, opened his mouth, then after a moment, closed it again.

"_I knew it!_" Hazil exploded, raising his hands in the air and turning away to begin pacing around, waving his arms. "I freaking _knew _that was what you would think of! It's not bad enough that you die _twice_, you have to go aiming for a third strike to make _sure _you're out since the first two didn't do it! At least those weren't on _purpose!_ Now you're actually considering getting offed _intentionally?_ And you think there's anything on earth that could get me to _help _you with this crackpot idea, whatever it is? Oh, I'm gonna _love _this one!"

"You done?" Zero asked, folding his arms, before continuing. "Look. First things first, like you said. This is _not _going to be Plan A, all right? This is worst-case scenario only. This might surprise you, but I _like _living. There's only one way I'm going to go through with this, and that's if it comes down to either me or the world." He met Hazil's eyes firmly. "I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. Twice was twice too many. If I see a better plan, I'm all for it. But if this is all we've got, then if we don't go through with it, we're in a no-win situation."

"You want to explain to me why this time's different from all the rest?" Hazil snapped, but he'd calmed down some, despite how angry he still clearly was.

"Because this time, we've got an unstoppable horde outnumbering us ten to one obliterating every trace of civilization remaining, one city-state at a time," Zero said, his own eyes narrowing. "Even if we down Sigma, they'll just keep going _while _he's coming back. We're out of time, and we're out of options. The only way out is if we kill the Virus along with him. Just like the Hunters are planning on doing with Wily. This time, it _has _to stick. If it doesn't, we're not going to have any more chances at it. Not any more."

"And that's it?" Hazil asked sourly. "That makes it okay to just plan to off yourself, like that? Oh well, it's me or all of us, might as well kick it?"

"_No, it's not fucking okay!_" Zero screamed, finally losing control of his own temper; he'd been less volatile ever since he'd come back, but there were limits. "That doesn't mean I'm going to let everything I fought for my whole life-everything we _all _fought for-go down the crapper just because Sigma's pulling this godmode _bullshit _on us! If I have to give my life so everybody else _doesn't_ have to, _fine! _That's what I signed _on _to do in the first place! That's what Hunters _do_, dammit!" Hazil watched him rant, calm but still visibly incensed, and only when he was done did the doctor speak again.

"Maybe you've thought this out more than I figured," he admitted grudgingly, his tone neutral. "Next question. Does this have anything to do with Iris?"

"Iris?" Zero repeated slowly, honestly surprised; he hadn't seen that one coming, and it took him a moment to figure out what Hazil was getting at. "What, like some kind of deathwish so I can be with her or something? Come on, Hazil. You know me better than that."

"Yeah, I do," Hazil agreed, unswayed. "I was _around _for that. I remember how much it messed you up, at the time. And for a long time after, thanks to that shithead Sigma."

"Point." After a moment, he looked away and chuckled. "But nah. You know, I actually haven't thought about her in months. It's weird. I used to think that I'd never get over that. Over her. What happened to her. Before Eurasia, I figured I'd be carrying that cross for the rest of my life. But ever since I came back..." He sighed. "I don't know why it's different now, but... it is. I guess somehow, while I was out, I must have accepted it."

"Have you?" Hazil asked quietly.

"I have." Zero met his eyes again. "I still regret what happened, but I can't change it. Iris is dead. She's gone. And me... I'm trying to move on. Who knows, if I make it, maybe in another couple years I'll be ready to start looking again."

"Yeah?" Hazil watched him for a moment more, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. I can believe that. At least you're doing this with your head on straight, not full of a bunch of quasi-sentimental romantic bullshit."

"Have you _met _me?" Zero demanded jokingly, and they both laughed once, short and sharp, at the same moment.

"All right," the doctor said then, sitting back down. "I know I'm going to regret this, but I owe you enough to hear you out, at least. I'm listening."

"It's not too complicated," Zero admitted readily. "Here's what I'm thinking. See if my line of thought makes sense. With the plan we've got, it's going to come down to one last run to take out Wily. Find him, go in, and kill him. That's what the Hunters are planning on. And with the way this war has gone, we're only going to get one shot at it. Like _that's _anything new."

"Last I heard, that was what we're leading up towards, yeah," Hazil conceded. "Okay, I'm with you so far."

"Wily's a coward, at heart," Zero continued, turning his gaze to his right hand as he slowly clenched his fist, palm up. "Auto and King both agree on that, and I'm inclined to believe them. He's going to throw everything he possibly can in our way to keep us away from him. That's going to include Sigma. He'll be there, when we make the attempt."

"How sure are you of this?" Hazil asked keenly. "What if Sigma tells him where he can stick it? Or the Virus?"

"This is Wily," Zero reminded him. "He'll have some kind of failsafe, in case of that. Some way to _make _them do it. He wouldn't have 'partnered' up with them otherwise. He doesn't gamble on that sort of thing willingly. Ever."

"You're probably right," Hazil agreed grudgingly. "So, Sigma'll be there. Probably the last line of defense. Then what?"

"He won't be alone," Zero continued. "The Virus will be with him. Its consciousness. And it'll want to infect me again. That one's a no-brainer." He stared at Hazil's eyes. "Maybe we'll have time to figure out a better plan before that goes down. In that case, all well and good. But if we don't have anything else, and if nothing else comes up... there's only one thing I'm sure they won't see coming. One thing that I know they'll fall for, both Sigma and the Virus."

"Letting them do it, on purpose," Hazil whispered, eyes widening in realization. "They'd never believe that you were _planning _on getting infected."

"Not just getting infected," Zero explained. "Before Sigma... I was the Prime Maverick. Me and her, together, were Wily's final creation, at least while he was still human. That was how this all started, and neither Wily or the Virus has ever gotten over it. If we have one final showdown, with everything on the table, and no more backing out, for any of us... I might be able to trick it... to trick _her _into ditching Sigma, and making me the Prime Maverick again. And yes, I _know _how fucked up that sounds. If I could put it any other way, I would."

"Moving on..." Hazil said, rolling his eyes. "So Sigma dies for real, but we've got Omega running the show again. Can't really say I'd call that much of an improvement. I'm assuming that's where whatever crackpot plan you've got comes in?"

_As implacable as always, Omega continued the slaughter, obliterating human and reploid alike with ease as he continued to fulfill his purpose._

"Not quite," Zero said, closing his eyes and forcing through the memory. Opening them again, he looked back at Hazil. "That's where you come in. What I need your help with." He handed over the datapad he'd brought along, and the doctor scanned it.

"So, let me get this straight," he said once he was done looking it over. "You want me to install a bomb into your systems. One that's programmed to detect an attempt at infection, and detonate instantly when that's triggered. One powerful enough to completely atomize you." He made a disgusted noise. "This is... to say this would violate the hippocratic oath would be the understatement of the millennium!"

"I know," Zero admitted. "And I'm sorry."

"Save it." Hazil growled, looking as if he were tempted to crush the datapad in his fist. "I'll ask you again. What the _hell _makes you think there is _any _way I'd be willing to do this?"

"It might be our only chance," Zero explained. "The only way to kill her. The only time when she might be vulnerable. When she's in between hosts. As long as she has a Prime Maverick, she's immortal. But that might be her weakness, as well. She's never gone without one. Maybe that's because she _can't_, whether she wants to or not. If we can cut her off, interrupt that process midway through, and stop it before she can possess me... and if Sigma's dead, for good... maybe she'll die too. Maybe she can't resurrect herself if she doesn't have a host to resurrect along with her."

"I'm catching a lot of 'maybes' and 'might bes' in this plan," Hazil pointed out critically. "What if you're wrong?"

"Then we're fucked," Zero admitted bluntly. "But we'd be fucked anyways, if we don't have anything else." He sighed. "Look, I know it's a shitty plan. I don't like it any more than you do. But it's all I've got, aside from killing every single Maverick in existence, which isn't going to happen. Like I said, if I have to die so civilization can live... so we can win this... it wouldn't be the first time." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. For asking you do this. You don't deserve this. But I don't have anybody else I _can _ask. You're the only person I'd trust to open me up and put something like that in."

"Does X know?" Hazil asked slowly. "And King?"

"Not yet," Zero said, looking away. "I'll tell them."

"You'd better," the doctor grumbled, crossing his arms. "Screw what _I _deserve. Those two are the ones you'd really be screwing over with this plan of yours. X most of all. You think I'm pissed off, wait until _he _hears this one. And King's not going to react much better. If he's willing to let his little brother do this, my opinion of him's going to drop considerably."

"King..." Zero shook his head slowly. "King's going to be difficult. But I think he'll understand, once I convince him this isn't about me. About us. As for X..." He sighed, imagining all too well how his oldest, best friend would react once he heard about the idea. "Let me deal with X. I'll take care of it. Somehow."

"I'll think about it," Hazil told him after a moment, his gaze troubled. "I'm not making any promises, but if you can get the two of them to agree... then I'll consider it."

"All right," Zero said somberly. "Thanks, Hazil. And I'm-"

Before he could finish, alarms blared, as the lights in the room began flashing red.

"_Alert!_" A mechanical voice shouted. "_Alert! Tokyo is under attack! Repeat, Tokyo is under attack!_"

"Shit!" Zero and Hazil both shouted at the same time, staring upwards, the red renegade recovering first.

"We need to get reinforcements headed that way, _now!_" He roared as he whirled and ran for the door. "Forget everything else we were planning for today! I'm going on ahead! Tell everybody else to follow me as quickly as possible!" Without waiting for a response, he dashed away, through the halls of the Kingdome. As soon as he was outside, he warped across the city; even with the Starnet up, short-term line-of-sight warp transport was still possible, especially underground, and in the blink of an eye he was at the elevator.

But even as he took it up, he already knew that no matter how hard they fought, the city he'd called home for most of his life before coming to Mecha was doomed.

**February 1, 2187, Noon **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

There was no denying its presence. It sat before the door to her private quarters, as innocently alone as any anonymous gift, save for the fact that this particular gift was anything but innocent. A Heckler & Kosh HK-47 magrifle, the most deadly traditional firearm currently in existence, with several customizations she could identify even though she only had a beginner's education in such things. For some reason, the name, "Jessie," was carved into the side of the butt, and there was a note attached.

_Alia- All right, enough bullshit. You know as well as I do that soon enough, you're going to _need _to be good with this. Fio's given in, which means you're out of excuses. The rest of us will see you down at the shooting range at six sharp, and I already know you're off duty by then today, so don't even try it. If you've got a hot date with X, reschedule. I won't go to him about this if you don't make me, but if I have to, you and I both know he'll back me up, no matter how much he'll hate doing it. Sorry, girl, but we're out of time. -Donia _

"Damnation and hellfire," Alia muttered, taking the rifle and carrying it into her room, ignoring the odd looks she was getting from several passersby. Closing her door behind her, she looked around for somewhere to put it before eventually settling on the top of her wardrobe; it wasn't a long-term solution, but it would do for the moment until she figured out a more permanent place to keep her new weapon. Setting the lunch she'd picked up at the mess hall on her table-she'd lost her appetite for it-she sat down on her bed, hands clasped over over her forehead.

She'd known this would be coming. They were nearing the end of the war, win or lose, and the possibility that even Tokyo would erupt in the same bloody chaos that had consumed the rest of the world had been growing more and more likely as the months had gone on. The strange lull in the violence ever since Douglas' death did nothing to repudiate that; eventually, things would pick back up again, and when they did it wouldn't be long before the enemy came to Japan at last. And when it did, everybody would need to be ready, Hunters and staff alike.

And yet, every time she'd considered giving in and learning what she would need to know someday, the same thought always held her back, made her reconsider and put it off for next time again and again. No matter how much she knew what she needed to do, she couldn't stop thinking about the fact that she'd never actually taken a life, killed somebody with her own hands. She'd helped others do so, enough to be guilty by association a thousand times over, but that was different from aiming, firing and realizing what you'd done as you watched the target fall.

After a while, she stood, giving her lunch one more regretful glance before throwing it in the recycler. The synthesized food was a comfort, not a necessity; she'd be fine without it, and she felt the urge to spend the remainder of her break anywhere but there. She was already on her way to the garage before she remembered that Douglas wouldn't be there any more, and with a sigh, she changed her path and headed towards the medical bay instead.

"Alia," Lifesaver greeted her without looking as she walked in; fortunately, it seemed she'd timed her visit right, as he was sitting at his desk typing rather than working on anything critical. "Feeling restless again?"

"Is it that obvious?" She asked wryly, taking a seat on one of the examining tables. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Hardly," the MHHQ's head medic assured her, glancing at her now as he pushed his chair back. "Checking medical records for grammer and punctuation errors. I don't _mind _this quiet period-quite the opposite, in fact-but it's cut down on the number of high-priority tasks for me to busy myself with, at least for the moment." He raised an eyebrow, then. "Is there something wrong, Alia? You seem more tense than usual."

"Is it that obvious?" She asked, smiling resignedly; hiding things from Lifesaver, for whatever reason, had always been an exercise in futility.

"'Obvious' isn't the word I'd use," he replied, smiling slightly. "But if I couldn't tell when a friend I've known for decades was troubled, I'd be a poor excuse for somebody in my position."

"No comment," she said, rolling her eyes, before giving in. "Donia decided she'd had enough of trying to be subtle. I just found my new magrifle."

"Ah." If Lifesaver was surprised by the news, he didn't show it; she was one of the few she'd confided her reasons for avoiding weapons training in before, a sentiment he'd seemed to agree with on previous occasions. Now, however, his face was calm and emotionless as he spoke. "Are you going to train yourself with it, then?"

"As much as I'd rather not, I know that I'd better," she admitted, sighing. "The way these last two years have gone, it's not a question of 'if' I'm going to need to so much as 'when.' And the answer to _that _one isn't going to be one I'll like."

"Most likely," Lifesaver agreed, still cool. After a moment, he stood. "As will I. I've been making my own preparations for that day in private." A drawer opened in his desk, one in a place where there hadn't been one before, and he removed a silver hilt. A press of his thumb, and a pure white blade of plasma sprang to life.

"A beam saber?" She asked, blinking in surprise. "I can't say I expected that. How long have you had it?"

"Ever since..." He started to say, before trailing off and closing his eyes. "Douglas." She murmured wordlessly in understanding, and he remained silent, until just when she was about to speak again. "To be honest with you, though... even if it does come to that, it won't be my first time. Not any more."

"What?" Now her eyes went wide and stayed that way for several moments. "When did you..." She thought back quickly, thinking about all the times Lifesaver had actually taken the field; there weren't many, even with the war. "Chile?"

"Chile," he agreed somberly. "A Maverick jumped me while I was patching up Louis from the 28th. I thought I was done for, but Louis tackled him. Pinned him down with his body even though it killed him. I only had a moment before the Maverick got out, so I took one of Louis' beam daggers, and... well, I made sure he wouldn't."

"You never told me," she said softly, making sure it didn't sound like an accusation.

"No," he admitted, looking down at the bright white blade. "I've never been very good at talking about my problems."

"No, I suppose not," she agreed. "You're a good listener, though. You know that if you ever do, I'm here, right?"

"I do," he said, smiling again as he released the button and the blade vanished again. "If I ever change my mind, you'll be my first choice."

"Good." She nodded. "Have you had training with that, then?"

"Some," he replied, putting it away again. "Commander Signas has been teaching me. I'd hardly call myself an expert, at least not on the level most Hunters operate on, but I know all of the basics by now."

"Ah." She frowned thoughtfully. "Commander Signas? Forgive me if this is rude, but why him? Why not Lassiter, or-" Too late, she remembered the answer to that question, and mentally cursed herself for her stupidity in forgetting. "Oh. I guess not."

"Exactly." Lifesaver smiled tightly, his eyes haunted. "Everybody is professional about it, thankfully, but the 00 Unit have never quite forgiven me, any more than X has. And under the circumstances, I can't exactly blame them."

"He doesn't..." She started to say, before trailing off, unable to finish the sentence honestly. X had never talked to her about it, but she knew he'd been somewhat cold towards the doctor ever since Eurasia, and what had happened there, and she knew why.

"It's all right, Alia," he assured her. "As I said, it's an entirely understandable sentiment. If I were in his boots, I daresay I'd feel the same way."

"Would you?" She asked curiously. "I always thought you were more like me, in that regard. More... practical, I suppose."

"Nobody can be practical in every situation," he said quietly, staring down at his desk now. "Would you truly be able to remain impartial if an error on my part, deliberate or not, resulted in Donia's death one day?"

"I..." She hesitated, thinking it over, before lowering her eyes as well. "I don't know. I can't say for sure."

"Indeed," Lifesaver murmured.  
>"But he's back now," she argued, looking at him again. "He's alive again. Doesn't that change anything?"<p>

"Does it?" He asked in return, meeting her eyes. "Does it change what happened, or whose fault it was?"

"You're too hard on yourself," she told him, shaking her head. "Signas blames himself for it, too. Did you know that?"

"I did," he admitted. "And I've told him many times how foolish that is. It was my mistake, not his, that caused that." He closed his eyes. "Please don't point out the apparent hypocrisy. If I had not spoken out against a fellow member of this organization... if I had trusted my comrade... Zero wouldn't have died there. And his body would not have been handed over to his father, to be turned into..." He clenched his teeth. "Into Omega."

"Is _that _what this is about?" Alia asked, as the light dawned. "Not just Zero's death. You blame yourself for everything Omega did as well?"

"Partially," the medic clarified. "I am not so foolish, nor so prideful, as to claim sole responsibility. Those deaths have many to whom they are accountable, most of them far more deserving of that blame than I. But without my contribution... my mistake... it would not have occurred. For want of a nail, I believe the saying goes."

"I'm not so sure," she said, frowning as she considered that. "This war has been building for longer than our generation has existed. Ever since King first founded Mecha, because he knew that someday his father would return, and that when he did, whoever defended the world-us-would need his help. Omega was a large part of Wily's plan, that much is obvious. I doubt it was something he added in after a stroke of luck gave him Zero's body. It's much more likely that, had that not occurred, he would have arranged Zero's death through some other means."

"You make that sound like it would be easy," Lifesaver argued, but some of the gloom had faded from his eyes. "Killing Zero Omega, Captain of the 00 Unit?"

"Easy?" Alia scoffed. "Hardly. But we're talking about Wily here. He doesn't seem to play by the same rules as the rest of us." She made a rude noise. "Not that Sigma has ever been much better about that."

"The odds never have been particularly fair on that score, have they?" Lifesaver smiled, though only slightly, and briefly. "Then again, I imagine some of their men would argue the same when it comes to X and Zero. Possibly King and Auto, as well."

"I suppose so," she agreed. "Although I try not to think about such things in regards to X. I've never seen him that way, any more than he's ever seen himself. I know what it must look like from an outsider's perspective, but you and I know better than that. Despite the unusual circumstances of his creation, in his own mind, he's simply another man, no more and no less. Anything indicating otherwise annoys him at best, and disturbs him at worst. Sometimes deeply."

"An admirably humble perspective," Lifesaver replied after a moment. "Unfortunately, I can no longer agree with it. Not if the things which our allies believe are true. Not that idiotic pantheon, but... the other things. The supernatural. I never believed in it, before, but now..."

"Do you?" Alia asked, wondering if he knew about her own trouble with that particular question. "Believe in it, now?"

"I am... uncertain," he answered, shaking his head. "As much as I would prefer to say no, and have always believed otherwise... there are more and more events occurring which simply refuse to make sense from a perspective that does not allow for forces in play that we do not truly comprehend. I thought the Maverick Virus was simply an infection, a piece of code, even after we witnessed Eurasia, but now I am forced to admit that there is more than that. And then there is X, as you said... and the affliction that befell him before this war even began."

"I'd almost forgotten about that," she lied; in truth, not a day had passed since she had learned of that condition that she hadn't worried over it, but she'd never spoken of her concerns even to X himself. It was the one thing they'd never discussed between them, and whatever his reasons for that were, she respected them."Have you made any progress with it?"

"Little to none," he admitted. "More than anything, that is what has convinced me that there is more at work here than science can explain. I've tried everything I can think of, but whatever that energy building inside of him is, it refuses to respond or react. It's as if it doesn't truly exist on this plane at all, despite its presence within X's body. I've kept notes of everything I've learned, and I believe I am at least beginning to understand its nature, but..." He left it hanging.

"But you cannot cure him," Alia whispered.

"I'd have to take him apart and rebuild him entirely," Lifesaver said quietly. "And doing so successfully is beyond my capabilities. I'm sorry, Alia."

"How long?" She asked, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Have you learned that much, at least? How much time does he have left, before...?" She couldn't finish.

"Decades," he assured her. "At least a century, perhaps more. Assuming he survives this war, of course."

"I see." She exhaled heavily. "I suppose it would be selfish of me to demand more, especially considering how likely it still is that none of us will live to see this year's end. And yet... I still want to. How silly is that?"

"There is nothing silly or selfish about that," he assured her. "Especially not after how long you've waited." Something seemed to change in his eyes, then. "Perhaps I am wrong, and something will change, and X will not perish from whatever is happening to him. But whatever happens, you will have your time with him, Alia. If you are questioning what to believe in, believe in X. Once his resolve is absolute, nothing can stop him, in times of both peace and war. So long as you live for him to return to, he will find a way. Always."

"Do you really believe that?" She asked, a dozen different conflicting emotions swirling madly through her mind.

"Do you not?" He replied simply.

"I..." She considered it, before slowly smiling, shaking her head. "I do. I know it's illogical, and ridiculous, and absurdly romantic... but I can't see him actually losing. Not any more. Not ever again." She lowered her head, embarrassed despite how long the two of them had been friends. "You know, we've already made plans for when this war is over. For when the Hunters don't need us any more. I'd almost thought he'd given up on that."

"I had come to the same conclusion," Lifesaver agreed, smiling again himself, and this time it lingered on his face. "At least, until he changed his mind. About you, and about everything else as well. I'm not sure quite who, or what, was responsible for that change, but it's given him hope again... and with him, the rest of us as well." He paused. "No... perhaps it be more accurate to say that _you _have given him hope."

"You give me too much credit," she told him, fighting the urge to blush. "I do my best, but I hardly think that I'm responsible for _that_."

"That's because you're just as humble as he is," the medic explained. "Have you truly not noticed how he has changed since the two of you resolved your situation? It's subtle, but it's there. He hasn't regained everything he's lost over the years, but some of it, at least, has returned."

"There have been other reasons for that change," she reminded him. "Greater miracles than that. His brothers come to mind. Zero and Auto. Either one of them returning to stand with him again, despite all probability, are much more likely explanations than..." She hesitated, unsure of how to put it. "Than him and I finally acknowledging our own foolishness."

"Again, you underestimate yourself, and your own influence upon him," he said, shaking his head slightly as he smiled. "The bonds of brothers are valuable, indeed. One which he relied upon more than any other for all his life, the other whom he never knew, and always thought he never would. But you... in all his years, you are the only one who he has ever felt another kind of love for. One even deeper, and more passionate, than that of family. The moment of change came because of you, Alia. Not Zero. Not Auto. You. Be good to him, Alia. As long as he has you, we still have a chance. All of us."

"If that's so..." she said slowly, before closing her eyes. "Then I've been a fool, to wait this long before listening to Donia."

"Explain, please," Lifesaver told her, raising an eyebrow as his smile faded. "That one went past me a little fast."

"I can support him," she replied, meeting his gaze calmly. "As a Navigator. I can provide him with intelligence, warn him of incoming threats, and direct his allies to assist him. But should the day come when that will not be enough... when all that is left for me to do is to stand with him, and fight by his side, like Zero and Auto... I am not currently capable of doing so. By the time that day arrives, I'll have to remedy that. So that I can help him in that way, as well. And if the thought of taking another life distresses me... well, I'm told it gets easier."

"I'd argue the necessity of that," Lifesaver pointed out. "I hope this isn't related to gender stereotypes. Not everybody is meant to be a warrior, Alia. There is no shame in being a noncombatant in a relationship with a soldier."

"That's not what this is about," she assured him. "As much as X hates it... he's not denying his responsibilities, or his role in this conflict. As a Maverick Hunter and as the son of Light. If you're right about how much I mean to him, then my survival holds more weight than self-interest. If I died, as a result of this conflict..." She closed her eyes. "He would fall."

"And without him, we would have no hope at all," Lifesaver gave voice to the end of her train of thought. "I see your point now."

"I'm beginning to realize why he hates such things, now," she said quietly. "I don't like that kind of thinking. It disturbs me, deeply." She shuddered. "I'm not... I'm nobody special, Lifesaver. I never have been. I don't want to think of my personal survival as an actual objective. But I have to, now. I don't have a choice in the matter."

"Nobody ever promised us a choice," he reminded her somberly. "Sometimes, we can only do the best we can with the hand we're dealt."

Before she could reply, sirens blared, and the lights in the room began to flash red.

"No..." She whispered, before dashing towards Lifesaver's desk; he was already leaping out of the chair, leaving it for her to slide into. It was the work of a moment to move his programs aside and open those which she and the other Navigators used to do their jobs. And then she could only stare in horror, as she saw what was coming, rising from the depths of the ocean to destroy them all.

"_Alia!_" Signas roared through her headset.

"They're coming, sir!" She replied just as furiously. "Thousands of them!"

"_Where?_" He shouted accusingly. "_Where are they coming from? Why didn't you see them?_"

"The ocean floor!" She told him, even as she took in the data herself. "We're picking up carriers and attack ships rising from the bottom of the ocean all around us! They've got the entire island completely surrounded!" He fell silent for a moment, then, and when he spoke next, it was to everybody in the base rather than her specifically, a message she had hoped she would never hear.

"_All Hunters, prepare for battle! Tokyo is under attack! I repeat, Tokyo is under attack!_"

**February 1, 2187, 12:30 PM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Commander Signas!" Donia greeted him as he ran into the war room. He'd blasted through the halls as quickly as possible to reach it, as soon as he'd spread the word, and was glad to see that a map of Tokyo was already up on the main projector.

"Damn," he muttered, staring at it as he moved behind his desk, and at all the glowing markers on it representing allies, enemies and civilians. After a few moments of scrutiny, he closed his eyes and repeated himself much more vehemently. "_Damn_."

"Commander?" Donia asked.

"All Hunters on site are to immediately depart for the west side with all possible haste," Signas snapped, glaring at the projector again as Alia arrived. "However, they are _not _to enter the harbor district. Concentrate on defending everything beyond the harbor."

"But sir, that's where they're attacking!" The Head Navigator protested as she took a seat behind her own desk.

"And what they'll use for a staging area," Signas added grimly. "They'll bombard the harbor from the sea using every cannon on those ships until nothing remains but smoking wasteland. The wall won't stand a chance against that much concentrated firepower. Only once they've obliterated everything within range will their ground troops disembark and attack the rest of the city. They're not going to risk their army on an easy target they can destroy without so much as setting foot on land."

"And we're just going to let them?" Alia asked, her voice carefully kept neutral rather than accusatory, though the look in her eyes told a different story. "We're not even going to try to save the harbor district? Or any of the people there?"

"The harbor district is already lost," Signas told her coldly. "There is nothing we can do to save it, and attempting to do so regardless would only mean losses we cannot afford. We _must _prioritize, or else we are _all _lost."

"Sir." She held his gaze for a moment more, then looked away. "Yes, sir."

"However..." He added once she had. "We should at least slow them down. Doing so will delay their landing as well as provide any surviving civilians more time to escape into the rest of the city. Have the 17th Unit board one of our remaining Rogumer-class airships and prepare for an airdrop onto the fleet. Their mission is to cause as much damage as possible before retreat and return to the MHHQ. And make sure the Rogumer stays above range of any anti-aircraft weaponry. Its loss would be disastrous for our endgame."

"Yes, sir," Alia repeated, sounding much more determined this time.

"They airdrop from that high up, they'll probably sink every ship they land on just by falling through the deck," Donia muttered. "If they don't ignite."

"All other Units, begin demolishing buildings to use for material in erecting fortifications," Signas continued, ignoring that. "Instruct all civilians to evacuate towards the east. It won't be long before they invade the rest of the city. We must be prepared for them." He glanced at Alia again. "I don't suppose there's any hope that X and Auto have finished their work on the Cronos Project?"

"No, sir." She shook her head. "I believe they're still working the bugs out of their first pair of prototypes."

"To be expected, I suppose." He sighed. The Cronos Project was the followup to the new Garm drones, which had already proven highly useful in support roles. Aside from their creators, nobody outside of the garage had any idea what the drones being built were, or even what they looked like, but X and Auto had both repeatedly claimed that they would be extremely valuable for the final battle they all knew would come all too soon.

A battle which he knew was still yet to come, and which would not begin until they had already lost what he had prayed he would never have to sacrifice. Until after Tokyo had fallen, as it inevitably would, despite all their efforts.

"They're concentrating on the west side at the moment, but they won't remain there for long," Alia told him calmly, only the speed at which she tapped on her keyboard betraying her tension. "Especially once they've destroyed everything in range. They'll send their ships around the coastline to assault the north and south as well soon enough."

"I am aware," Signas replied. "I have already recorded a message that Tai is currently broadcasting throughout the city, instructing all residents along the coast to move further inland and prepare for evacuation." He frowned. "Has there been any word from Mecha?"

"A quick message," Donia answered. "Says they're on their way, and they'll be here soon. Should we try calling back?"

"Not just yet," he told her, staring at the map of the city on the main projector. "Give me a moment to think." He did just that, eyes locked on the holographic projection of the city he had fought to protect ever since he had first come to it, so many years ago. An entire lifetime had passed within the halls of this base, as he'd changed from an emotionless fool to-he hoped-a Commanding Officer worthy of his rank, and of the men he led. And now, decades later, he almost wished he could be as empty inside as he'd been back then again, for just long enough to make what he would have to do easier.

No matter how he planned it, how he deployed his troops, how he had them act, the end of the battle was always the same inside his head. They would fight bravely, for as long as they could, and save as many civilians lives as possible while reaping the opposite from their enemies with equal determination, but it would not be enough. Nothing they still had, after nearly two years of global conflict, would be enough. All they could do was fight as long as they could before the inevitable came to pass.

Tokyo was doomed. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Commander?" Alia asked eventually, and her voice jolted him out of his concentration. Sighing, he passed a hand over his eyes before glancing at her.

"Connect me to Mecha. King's line. He and I must speak about our strategy for the end of this war."

"Actually, _he's _calling _us_," she explained. "I'll put him through." A moment later, a window appeared on the main projector, King's face within it.

"Commander Signas," he greeted him stiffly. "I've heard that it's begun. I hate to ask, but I must. Is it as bad as they say?"

"King," Signas returned the greeting, shaking his head. "In all likelihood, it's worse. We will hold them off for as long as we are capable, but the fact of the matter is, this battle will end just as every other one has before in this war."

"I was afraid of that." King sighed before continuing. "Do you intend to recall the forces you have stationed in the other cities?"

"As much as I would like to, I cannot," Signas told him quietly. "To do so would be to leave them open for immediate destruction, and the deaths of their entire populations. Even now, it is out of the question. We will have to defend our city with the forces we have present here in Japan, and no more."

"Very well," King said quietly. "However... we are under no such constraints. I intend to order all of Mecha's forces to return home, and thence to Tokyo, to assist us. Bringing as many civilian refugees with them as their ships can hold, of course."

"I should order you not to," Signas said levelly after a moment's silence. "I could, by the treaty we signed. One of the conditions of our alliance was that you would defer to my judgment in case of conflicting opinions."

"Yours, as well as Mega Man X's, though no others," King agreed, just as calmly. "You could." A moment passed, as the two leaders stared each other down, until finally, the Robot Master looked away first. "That will not be necessary. I will have them remain at their posts, if you wish."

"Thank you, King," he replied solemnly. "You have the right to decide the best course of action for your people, but we cannot abandon those who we have sworn to protect, even to save our own."

"I understand," King said quietly. "Zero Omega is currently leading the first wave of reinforcements. They will be arriving shortly. As soon as we are done here, I will take the second wave and follow. Where would you prefer us to go?"

"Deploy through the northwest and southwest areas," Signas told him. "We're expecting the bombardment to continue for some time before the ground forces disembark."

"Then the areas under fire are already lost," King deduced quickly. "Unfortunate, but I cannot disagree. Very well."

"In addition, I intend to begin evacuating the city immediately," Signas continued. "I trust Mecha will be prepared for them?"

"We have cleared as many buildings as possible, in addition to procuring synthesizers for food and water," King assured him. "I cannot promise comfort, but the conditions will be survivable, at least, and we have the energen to keep everything running."

"I should certainly hope so, after everything we had to do to stockpile it," Signas replied, smiling slightly, though his heart wasn't in it. They'd been preparing for this day throughout most of the war, and part of that preparation had been to ensure that those who remained would be able to survive the aftermath if they won; there was no point in winning the war if lack of energy led to their extinction years later. It hadn't been easy, especially with the worldwide shortages, but in the end, they'd accumulated enough.

"At least the incident with the abandoned mine provided some levity at a time when we both sorely needed it," King reminded him, his own lips twitching upward.

"I'll have you know there are no copies of that footage remaining in existence," Signas told him before shaking his head. "Sadly, I doubt such days will ever come again."

"They will," King said, so firmly that Signas blinked, caught off guard by the steel in his fellow ruler's voice. "It will be a long time, and there will be much to do before it comes, but after we have won this war... some day, people will be able to laugh once more. When all this is over forever, consigned to the past."

"Indeed." Signas nodded slowly. "Some day. For now, though, we have our duties, and our responsibilities. Though even within this lamentable state of affairs, I find myself anticipating at least one result. Soon, I will finally be able to make good on another part of our treaty, and see your hidden city with my own eyes."

"Have you truly never once visited before?" King asked curiously. "I admit I have never met with you here, but I am surprised, regardless."

"So many duties to see to, so little time," Signas explained. "My folly was in not doing so before this war began. Once it did... no, I never had the chance. And now, it seems that the time has come whether I like it or not."

"Be careful with such statements, my friend," King warned him. "Whether you believe in such things or not, I have found that it is never wise to tempt fate into providing an eternal alternative."

"Very true," Signas agreed. "I will refrain from doing so in the future."

"Good." King nodded. "Don't die, Signas. Defend your city for as long as you can, and then evacuate, and come to mine. I look forward to welcoming you there, as you have welcomed me into your home, despite my hatred for the circumstances under which I must do so. I will see you then."

"Until then," Signas said, before cutting the communication.

"The 17th have departed," Alia told him. "They will be engaging shortly."

"Good," Signas told her. "Keep me posted." With that said, he brought up a smaller version of the city map on his personal terminal, and began working on various possible tactics and strategies for the battle ahead.

As much as he would have preferred to be out there fighting himself, his place had always been here, and always would, so long as the MHHQ stood.

**February 1, 2187, 2:00 PM **

**Vladivistok, Russia **

"Are you ready to go, Doctor?" A sultry voice echoed through the room as the door opened, and he turned his head to see Cubit Foxtar walking in, her usual smirk gracing her features; back from the dead following the disaster that had led to the loss of warp technology for all of them, she was unchanged by the experience, just as with every other time she'd been killed so far. "It's almost time. My Faithful are already boarding."

"As are my Mavericks, unless something has gone wrong," Doctor Doppler replied, looking back to the terminal he was working at, set between a pair of cylindrical tanks. "I was just preparing to release our 'replacements' before we go."

"Of course," Foxtar murmured, glancing up at the tanks. "A good thing that you have such a powerful mind, doctor. I had almost forgotten about that, and _that_... would have been bad, for both of us, once our masters heard."

"More than slightly," Doppler agreed. "One thing we share, Mavericks and Faithful both. Failure in any way, shape or form carries only one penalty."

"Oh, come now, Doctor." She leaned forward over his chair, draping an arm across his shoulders, and he had to force himself not to tense up at the unexpected contact; normally, such behavior from an attractive woman would have been pleasant, but even by the standards of the Mavericks he considered the Disciples to be completely insane, and Cubit Foxtar was no exception to that rule. "We have more in common than _that, _I'd say."

"Well, yes," Doppler conceded. "We are both absolutely and completely devoted to the will of our respective masters. We are both hated and despised by human, reploid, and Robot Master alike, and with good reason, for we both seek the absolute extermination of each and every one of them. We both derive a great deal of pleasure from causing death and destruction, the bloodier and gorier the better. And, at least in our specific cases, such things hold no sway over us these days."

"When you list it all out so mechanically like that, somehow, it loses its fun," Foxtar complained, standing again.

"My apologies," he replied mildly. "I am a man of science, I'm afraid. Even as a Maverick, my instincts are to analyze and catalog, in an orderly fashion. It is simply how I'm used to thinking. For all our similarities, our perspectives are quite different."

"Yes, yes." Foxtar sighed, looking bored now, and Doppler carefully concealed a small smile. "Well, are they ready or not?"

"They are," Doppler said, inputting the final command and stepping back as the tanks slowly drained. Only when both were empty did the plasteel lower, revealing what was inside. A pair of mirror duplicates, one of each of them, physically identical down to the last strand of synthhair. Unsurprising, considering that they had been created as such, made to the same specifications as the originals... in body, at least.

"You know, this is actually the first time I've ever had one of these made of me," Foxtar murmured, meeting the eyes of her copy as it remained standing inside its tank. "You'd think it would have happened before now."

"They're not as useful as you'd think," Doppler explained to her. "Oh, their bodies are strong enough, but without the intelligence to use them to their full extent, there's only so much they're capable of." The replicas inside the tanks were known as 'Blanks,' weapons which the Mavericks had used ever since the First Uprising. Copies of powerful reploids, they could be built as many times over as necessary, but the minds that went with them were another story. Blanks were only as intelligent as any menial robot, not even close to possessing true sentience.

"You would think that _one _of our sides would have figured out how to do something about that by now," Foxtar murmured, looking them over. "Considering what they're capable of with us, It's somewhat surprising that they haven't."

"Perhaps," Doppler replied. "Then again, perhaps it's for the best that they haven't. The experience might be somewhat... unnerving, to exist simultaneously with yourself. Even our masters haven't gone _that _far, to my knowledge."

"A valid point," she admitted, frowning in thought. "We wouldn't want to seem as if we were getting ideas above our station. That would... not end well."

"Not quite what I was thinking, but equally valid," Doppler said, wincing, before looking at the blanks. "You have your programming. Carry it out."

"Understood," both Blanks replied, their voices monotone, devoid of emotion. Unlike the genuine articles, leading those who would remain behind to maintain the siege of Vladivostok was far beyond the capabilities of the duplicates. Instead, they would follow the directions of their supposed minions, who would allow them to be seen but keep them from actually engaging the enemy for as long as possible.

"Good." Nodding once, Doppler abruptly turned and walked away, Foxtar following beside him; anything else would have been meaningless to the Blanks.

"How long do you think they'll last before the enemy catch on?" She asked as they made their way out of the bunker his on-site lab had been built in and through the encampment surrounding the city they'd come to destroy. "Physically identical or not, their lack of intelligence is more than slightly obvious."

"If you _talk _to them, yes," Doppler conceded. "But from a distance? All they have to do is mimic our body language. Well within their capabilities, I assure you." He sighed. "That being said, as soon as we're spotted elsewhere, it won't take them long to realize which ones are false, and how it's being done. Still, by that point, they won't be necessary. We just need them to think we're still here until we actually arrive."

"True," she agreed. "They'll serve their purpose."

"As do we all," he murmured. "I hope you don't think me rude for returning to a previous topic of discussion, but there's something I've been wondering about for some time, and I was hoping that you could edify me."

"Is that so?" She asked, smiling again. "Is this a scientific inquiry, or a personal one?"

"Both," he replied evenly. "My reasons for asking are purely scientific, but the question itself _is _somewhat of a personal nature."

"Oh, _really_?" She purred. "Why don't you save it until we're on our way, then? So we can get comfortable."

"As you wish." Shrugging, Doppler walked into another bunker and began descending the several flights of stairs, the female Disciple still with him. Together, they eventually emerged into an underground cavern far below, so deep that the city above had no idea of its presence. There, Faithful and Mavericks were lined up side by side, boarding a group of submarines that had arrived from the Devil's Sea the previous day.

"Doctor Doppler, sir!" A hideous arachnid Maverick called as they approached, saluting. "We will be ready to depart shortly!"

"Lady Foxtar!" One of the Faithful, indistinguishable from all the rest in their white and gold, did the same. "Everything is proceeding according to schedule!"

Doppler and Foxtar traded a long glance before both rolled their eyes.

"Proceed," Doppler told them, before they both turned and leaped through the boarding lines, onto the upper deck of the largest vessel. Without a backwards glance, they entered, proceeding through the submarine until they reached the officer's lounge, where they would be spending the majority of their trip.

"Minions," Foxtar sighed, flopping on the couch, her arms spread.

"A necessary evil," Doppler reminded her, sitting down on the other end, as far away from her as possible. "Neither of our masters encourage individual thought."

"It's unnecessary," Foxtar agreed. "We exist only to serve, after all. That being said, while _individual _thought may be prohibited, that does not necessarily restrict thought in general, my dear Doctor."

"As I myself am a testament to," Doppler admitted readily. "You make a good point. Unfortunately, our leaders generally prefer to select for physical superiority rather than mental, as a general rule."

"That does seem to be the case," she said, frowning slightly. "Even among the upper ranks. Biblio is intelligent enough, and Schilt and Cactank can pass for it in a dim light, but Flizard, Inarabitta and Mantisk are thugs. And don't even get me started on Kelvarian."

"Perhaps we should put him and Violen head-to-head in an intelligence test, some day," Doppler suggested slyly. "For science, of course."

"Oh, of course." She smiled again, her mad eyes sparkling with merriment. "The only difficulty would be finding more than one question _either _of them could answer. Speaking of science... I believe there was something you wished to ask me?"

"There is," Doppler agreed, glancing her way. "If you will indulge my curiosity, dear girl... I've always wondered just what it's like for you and your fellow Disciples when you die. Your master's method is somewhat different from mine."

"Oh." For the first time since he'd met her, the strange gleam in Foxtar's eyes seemed to fade, as she glanced downward. "Yes. I suppose it is." She paused for a moment, before continuing. "To be honest, there isn't much to talk about. It's much like... a movie missing a segment. It just cuts from earlier to later. I don't even remember dying; one moment I'm about to, and then instantly, I'm back at the Devil's Sea, in my new body as it comes to life. A few minutes spent catching up on what I missed, and it's back to work."

"I see," Doppler murmured, thinking it over. "How very efficient. As to be expected from your master, I suppose."

"Indeed." Foxtar met his eyes, as her own returned to normal. "Fair is fair, doctor, and now I'm curious. Tell me, what is it like for _you_, when you die?"

"It is..." Doppler started to say, before trailing off to collect his thoughts, and then continuing. "Different. I remember all of it. All the way to the moment when my life slipped from my body, and I was no more. The first time, so many years ago, the Virus left me near the end, and I lived my last moments as my original self. As who I was before it claimed me. Every time after that, though... it has remained with me until the very end, and has been there when I awakened anew in the Sigma Building. From there, it's much like you said."

"What's it like?" she asked, leaning towards him; for once, the curiosity in her voice sounded genuine rather than affected. "Being one person first, and then a completely different one afterward, and for so much longer?"

"I don't really have any basis for comparison." He shrugged. "In that respect, though, from my perspective... the Virus is merciful in that alone. You simply _are_, when you are Infected, without any doubts or uncertainties as to your new existence."

"Really." She fell back on the couch. "How disappointing. Don't you feel anything about it? Anything at all?"

"Not particularly," Doppler replied, as something buried deep inside him fought the urge to respond differently; now was not the time to expend the last remnants of his willpower that he had been carefully hoarding ever since his first return from death. "As you said, I am different now. My memories of my time before infection were memories belonging to a different Doctor Doppler, one who did not know the embrace of the Maverick Virus. That man is gone now, and I have more important things to occupy my time and thoughts with."

"I suppose," she said, shrugging. "I can't imagine what something like that would be like, myself. I hope I never have to experience it."

"With any luck, nothing of the sort will be necessary," Doppler replied noncommittally; they all knew what would happen once the Mavericks and the Faithful had exterminated all other life on the planet, but none of them were admitting it to each other, for obvious reasons. "Removing warp technology from the playing field was an unprecedented move, but we've already developed alternatives. In the end, it will be a delaying measure, nothing more."

"Doctor Doppler, Lady Foxtar," a voice broke in from a speaker next to the lounge's projector. "All forces have boarded, and we are ready for departure."

"Go," Foxtar said simply, before glancing back at Doppler. "How confident of you, Doctor. I like that in a man. You foresee an easy victory for us, then?"

"Easy?" Doppler shook his head. "No. Not easy. The Maverick Hunters will defend _this _city to their dying breath, and Mecha will help them. If it were easy, it would not be necessary for all of us to come, and to bring a third of the forces deployed to each of the other five cities with us. This will be a long struggle, even with their defenses breached. We have the initiative, but I expect the Hunters to have surprises of their own in store for us. Tokyo will make us bleed. That much is certain. And yet... in time, it will fall before us, like all the rest."

"Which will leave us to mop up the remnants back here and everywhere else, while the survivors limp back to their last stronghold, to pull the dirt over them and hide in wait for our return," Foxtar purred, her smile widening. "And return we will, for the final battle. Then and there, we shall triumph over them once and for all, and take this world for our God. And for his daughter, your Virus, as well, of course."

"Of course," Doppler replied, keeping his voice level as he glanced at the projector. "As much as I anticipate it, however-and I assure you that I do-it will, unfortunately, be some time before we arrive. Shall we see what's on?"

"By all means," Foxtar agreed, taking the remote control and using it. The projector flickered on, and they were immediately confronted by the stern countenance of the Maverick Hunters' Commander Signas. "Oh, _this _should be good."

"_-__to the best of my ability so long as I hold it,_" the enemy leader was saying. "_With that aim in mind, I am now offering amnesty to all non-Infected Mavericks, as well as human criminals, who are willing to join us in defending our very existence. It has become apparent that your lives are in as much danger as our own. Regardless of past crimes, if you come to us and are willing to be tested for Infection, I vow to personally guarantee a complete pardon for all previous crimes. Fight with us, and at the conclusion of the war, you will be permitted to go your own way freely, without fear of punishment._"

"Is he _serious_?" Foxtar blurted, her eyes wide.

"He appears to be," Doppler muttered absently, staring at the screen and listening intently.

"_I realize that this is an unprecedented offer, but we live in unprecedented times,_" Signas continued. "_To those who object, I can only remind you that our situation is dire. For the survival of our species, human and robot alike, we must accept any assistance available, regardless of our personal feelings on the matter. To those who would doubt the truth of my words, remember that the enemy will kill you or infect you as readily as us. For better or for worse, we must unite, or we will perish, one and all. I trust that you will make the right decision._"

"Well," she commented a moment later, once the usual program-some sort of bizarre sports game, likely a rerun from more peaceful times-resumed. "_That _was different. I wonder if anybody will actually take him up on it."

"I wonder," Doctor Doppler echoed, filing what he'd learned away in his mind with everything else. An interesting piece of information, with possible ramifications for the future of the war, but nothing more. Nothing worthy of note, of meaning, of interest beyond light amusement.

For now.

**February 2, 2187, 3:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Commander Signas," a familiar voice was saying. He knew who it was, but his thoughts were so muddled, he couldn't place it. After a moment, he shook his head and glanced over at Donia, who was standing next to his desk and frowning. "Hello? Commander Signas?"

"Yes, Donia?" He replied, shaking his head again to clear the cobwebs from it. "Was there something?"

"Considering I had to ask three times, and I'm pretty sure you didn't even hear the first?" She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'd say so. With all due respect, you need to get some stasis, _bad_, sir. _Again_. How long's it been this time?"

"Irrelevant," Signas told her, turning his gaze back to the map of the city on the big screen; over forty percent of Tokyo was lost, and more was slipping away every minute. It wouldn't be long before the enemy reached the MHHQ, and he knew he had to be ready to give his last order in the building that had been more than a home to him along with every Hunter in existence ever since he had stepped through the doors at any moment. "Sleep... stasis... _whatever_ is a luxury I can no longer afford at this point in time."

"Uh-huh." Donia nodded, not looking particularly convinced. "Permission to ask a question, sir?"

"Yes?" He replied levelly, despite knowing how weighted her request was.

"When was the last time _you _said, 'whatever,' as a noun?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or whatever the word is. Point is, you just talked like _I _talk, sir. _Pretty _sure that's a sign that 'luxury' isn't the right word either."

"Regardless, it is out of the question," he repeated, frowning himself as he looked around the room. "Speaking of questions. Where is Alia? I would expect her to be asking me this herself. Her or Lifesaver."

"She's already turned in," she told him, crossing her arms. "An hour ago. At least that's what she _said _she was doing. Knowing her, she's probably standing guard over X while he's getting worked on. Point is, she asked you first, and you said yes. I'm gonna go ahead and assume you don't even remember it, which probably means I should tell Lifesaver... except _he's _busy patching the 17th up so they can go right back out there. Which is why Alia _told _me that if you were still here an hour after she conked out, I should do something about that. And she wasn't smiling when she did."

"You do realize that I am both Alia's superior officer as well as your own, yes?" Signas asked pointedly.

"Of course I do." Donia yawned before continuing, and Signas had to make a significant effort not to follow suit. "I ain't _that _stupid, sir. Funny thing is, though, I'm _pretty _sure right now, you need every Navigator you can get, no matter how much they mouth off. And since I don't really give a damn about my _long-_term career prospects at the moment, for some strange reason, I'm gonna go with doing what she told me to do."

"Really." Signas met her eyes. "You do realize you're practically _asking _me to charge you with insubordination."

"Actually?" She smiled then. "I'm asking you _not _to write me up for insubordination. Pretty please?" She batted her eyelashes at him, and he had to fight an urge to laugh at her sheer outrageous nerve.

"Despite my better judgment, for some reason, I find myself inclined to concede," he admitted, unable to stop himself from smiling. "Once. How you've managed to go this long without being disciplined by Alia is a mystery to me."

"For one thing, that's _why _she keeps me around," she explained. "Because I'm not afraid to call her out when she needs it. For two, she likes me, that's why." She winked. "And you do, too, sir. Don't think I don't appreciate it, even if you won't admit it."

"Donia..." He said slowly, after a moment's silence. "Did you just _flirt _with me?"

"Just a little," she admitted easily. "What? Nobody's ever done that before around here?" Around the room, everybody else was carefully concentrating on their own work, apparently ignorant of the conversation.

"Not once," he said, quickly glancing at the projector to make sure he wasn't missing anything important. "I do believe this is the first time anybody in this entire organization has _ever _acknowledged the fact that I am, in fact, a heterosexual male."

"Seriously?" She frowned, then. "I mean, of course nobody's gonna go _too _far-you _are _the chief and all-but not _once_?"

"Not one single time," he confirmed. "I never really thought about it before. I'm not even sure why I mentioned it now."

"Probably because, hey, you're whacked out on sleep deprivation," she suggested, tapping a finger against her arm in thought. "Huh. We all figured you had something going on outside the organization. Anti-fraternization regulations and all that."

"As pleasant as that would have been, no." He shook his head. "My life is my work, and I've never had much time for anything outside of that."

"As has never been more apparent," she commented dryly. "Well, damn. Wish I'd found this out before everything went to hell."

"Dare I ask why?" He asked, knowing as he did that he would probably regret it.

"Well, for one, I know for a _fact _that Lily's had a crush on you the size of Kansai since the day she joined up," she told him, glancing over at another empty desk. "Shame. I could have hooked the two of you up or something."

Signas stared.

He blinked.

"You're joking," he managed to say eventually.

"Oh, _wow_," Donia murmured, her own eyes wide now. "You're serious, aren't you, sir? You've never had a girlfriend. Okay, that does it. If we all survive this, then as soon as this stinking war's over with, you and her are going on a date. Lesson number one on the female mind: Men in uniform are _always _a good thing."

"I... see," he said, more than slightly confused now, though that didn't stop him from commenting further. "What's next? Playing matchmaker with _King_?"

"God, I hope not." She grimaced. "There's problem solving, and then there's completely lost causes. I'd have more luck finding a date for _Lifesaver_. Don't tell him I said that, though."

"Which one?" He asked, still feeling like he was falling behind in the conversation. "Lifesaver or King?"

"Both," she said flatly. "Don't feel like getting my head axed off today, thanks, and I don't even _want _to know what-" She cut off suddenly, eyes narrowing, as she raised a hand to her headset. "Damn!" Spinning, she ran back to her desk. "Captain Gillian says they're overrunning the Karashita Tower!"

"Order the 4th to fall back, but to keep them there," Signas told her. "There's no point in defending the tower if it's already lost, but don't let them spread any further just yet. It's hardly the first time." The skyscraper had fallen into Maverick hands before, decades ago, during the First Maverick Uprising, when one of Sigma's generals by the name of Boomer Kuwanger had used it as his personal base of operations during the Maverick occupation of Tokyo. "I assume that it's already been completely evacuated?"

"Hours ago," she assured him. "It's empty as a tomb now that the 4th are pulling out. They'll probably keep chasing the... wait." She was silent for a moment, before her eyes went wide. "They're blowing it! They're planting charges at the base of the tower!"

"Maniacs," Signas growled. "When it falls, anything in its way will be..." His own eyes went wide then, as he realized what was about to happen.

"Anything..." Donia repeated, horrified, as both their eyes locked on the main projector, and the map of Tokyo it displayed.

"No," Signas whispered, before roaring into his communicator, broadcasting the message throughout the entire base, even as he heard the muffled sounds of an explosion far off in the distance. "All Hunters, clear the southeast area of the base immediately! Repeat, all Hunters, clear the southeast area of the-"

Before he could finish, the entire building shook with a crash so loud it drowned out every other sound in the room, as the titanic skyscraper fell, its top coming down directly upon the roof of the MHHQ.

"Status report!" Signas shouted as he climbed back to his feet; like everybody else in the room, he'd been knocked to the floor by the impact.

"18% of the building has been completely destroyed!" Donia yelled, bringing up a schematic of the MHHQ's layout on the main projector, with green, yellow and red lighting showing the amount and location of damage. "Barracks, mostly, and I think they were mostly empty right now, but..." She cut herself off angrily before continuing. "Status is that there's a gigantic fucking hole in the side of our _fucking_ headquarters, sir!"

"Were the uninjured members of the 17th in the affected area?" Signas asked; X's was the only full Unit currently on base, catching a few hours of stasis and repair before returning to the battle.

"No, sir!" Donia told him, and he breathed out. "They'll be waking up, though. Good thing, since... aw, shit! Maverick reinforcements just reached the bunch who blew the tower! Gillian says there's twice as many of them, and he says... _fuck! _He says Violen, Serges and Agile are _all _there with them!" She waited a moment more, then snarled and slammed a fist into her desk, and when she spoke again, it was quieter. "They got him."

"Faithful, too!" Fio, another Navigator, chimed in. "The 9th are trying to hold them back, but they're coming towards us, from the west!"

"Are there any Disciples with them?" Signas demanded, though he feared he already knew the answer.

"Two!" She replied, growing pale. "Volteel Biblio and Tretista Kelvarian! They're tearing through the 9th!"

"Damn," Signas muttered under his breath, staring at the projector. He knew what was coming. What he would have to do. He had known that it would come to this eventually from the moment Tokyo had been attacked, and yet now that the moment was finally here he found himself hesitating. He knew what his next orders would be, what was the only logical course of action at this point, and he knew he had to do it _now_, and still he could only close his eyes and repeat himself under his breath. "_Damn_."

"Sir?" Donia asked, concern and determination mixed in her voice. "They're coming, sir. They're going to be here soon."

"I am aware." Signas opened his eyes and straightened his back. "Very well. So be it, then. We have no choice left to us." He activated his communicator again, once more sending his voice through the entire building. "Attention all personnel! Evacuate immediately! Maverick attack impending! The MHHQ is lost! Repeat, all personnel, evacuate immediately! Maverick attack impending! The MHHQ is lost!"

"We need to go, sir," Donia told him as the rest of the Navigators began to stand, taking various weapons up as they ran for the doors; she herself was holding a magrifle, and he remembered dimly that she knew how to use it.

"I know," he said, taking his beam rapier in hand as he followed her to the door. As another message began blaring, in the voice of the base's computer.

"_Alert! Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks on base!_"

**February 2, 2187, 3:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"Alia," Lifesaver said, without looking up from Mega Man X's open chest as he continued his repair work.

"Yes?" The Head Navigator replied after a moment of silence, one that told him everything he needed to know about her current state. She was sitting in a chair near the door, as she had ever since she and X had come in hours ago, the latter bearing numerous wounds from the battle currently raging outside the walls of the MHHQ, and growing closer every minute. "I'm sorry, I must have nodded off for a moment. What is it?"

"That," he told her pointedly. "The fact that you did. You should go get some stasis. You clearly need it."

"Once you're finished with X," she said stubbornly.

"You're not going to have enough time for a full rest cycle as it is before your next shift, as it is," he reminded her. "Reducing what you do have further will not help. I assure you, X is safe on my table."

"I never implied otherwise, Lifesaver," she told him, slightly sharply, before grimacing and looking away. "I'm sorry. You're right, I'm tired, and it's making me snappish. And yes, I know I should have been asleep hours ago."

"Then why don't you?" He asked, keeping his tone unchanged.

"Because..." She hesitated a moment before sighing and answering. "Ever since we... realized the only ones we were fooling were ourselves, I've never gone to sleep alone. Without him there, with me. I suppose it's silly, and I don't even know why, but... there it is."

"Perhaps it is," he conceded. "Then again, such behavior is what separates us from the drones. If we behaved entirely according to logic and rationality with every breath we took, would we truly be sentient? I think not. That may just be what free will is truly about. The ability to make silly decisions, and to live with the consequences." He paused a moment before continuing. "Or perhaps I'm simply exhausted as well."

"I was about to say." She laughed, briefly. "Nothing personal, but you're the last person I would have expected that line of thought from."

"Even I am not completely dependent upon logic and reason, Alia," he told her, smiling slightly. "Almost always, yes. But not universally so."

"And that's why you're my friend," she told him. "I explained that, to X, once. I'm not sure if he truly understood, or if he was just humoring me, but I like to think he did."

"Thank you," he said quietly after a moment.

"For what?" She asked. "Defending you? I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't."

"Not just for that," he explained. "For believing in what you were saying, when you did. For believing in me. Sometimes... I need to hear that."

"Any time you need to, look me up," she promised him, before sighing. "I was going to say that Douglas would do the same, but... then I remembered. Is it strange that, despite how many other friends we've all lost, I still have trouble remembering that he's dead?"

"Not really." Lifesaver shook his head. "You and I both shared the role of being a high-ranking noncombatant with him. We worked together more closely and more often than with most of the Hunters, even the Captains."

"I suppose that makes sense," she murmured. "But that just makes it all the more apparent how bad this situation is. I know this sounds ridiculous, but now, more than ever before, even when Eurasia fell... none of us are safe. Not even noncombatants such like us."

"No, we are not," he told her solemnly. "Now, more than ever before, indeed. As will become readily apparent all too soon."

"You think the MHHQ will fall, then?" She asked him quietly.

"I know it will," he replied, just as softly. "Though every bone in my body cries out against the very thought, I've known it would happen since the moment the enemy attacked Tokyo. We aren't ready for a final confrontation. Not yet. And we won't be, by the time they reach us. Our only choice will be to evacuate, and join the rest of the refugees fleeing to Mecha." A sudden thought struck him, and he tensed up. "You and your girls have been observing that road carefully, I trust?"

"Of course," she told him calmly. "It was the first thing I thought of once we began evacuating the city. Ambushing us on our way to Mecha would be disastrous, but thanks to the Starnet, it would require them having a land presence outside of the city. So far, they don't, and should that change, we'll be able to deploy Hunters to intercept them accordingly before they get close."

"Good." He nodded sharply. "Very good. So long as we ensure that that does not happen... with any luck, they will not press us further right away. Once Tokyo has fallen, they'll focus on the other remaining city-states before converging on Mecha. With luck, that will provide us with the time we need for X and Auto to finish their work on the Cronos Project, and for the rest of us to find Doctor Wily's current location."

"Do you think so?" Alia asked, sounding depressed. "That would hardly be the logical course of action. It would make much more sense for them to follow us all the way to Mecha, and finish us off without giving us the chance to regroup."

"There are two reasons why I believe that will not happen," he told her clinically, as if they were discussing sports scores or base gossip rather than the fate of the planet, more uncertain than ever before. "First, it is entirely possible-perhaps even probable-that they will lack the numbers to immediately assault and destroy Mecha, once the battle of Tokyo is finished. The city's loss is inevitable, but we are hardly going gently into that good night. For every Hunter we lose, ten of the enemy die. They'll want to wait for the rest of their forces to join them before following us to Mecha."

"A valid point," she conceded, sounding thoughtful. "Even with everybody they brought during their second landing-_that _was a nasty trick-you might be right. Wily is no fool, and neither is Sigma. If the issue is even slightly in doubt, they won't risk it. Overwhelming superiority of numbers has been their greatest asset throughout this entire war. They won't change that part of their game plan now, at the end of the road. What's the second reason?"

"The fact that in some matters, they _are _fools," he reminded her, smiling coldly. "To Wily, at least, and possibly Sigma as well, this is not so much a war as it is a show. A performance. They place far too much importance on theatricality. Even now, with the Starnet up, I doubt that aspect of their thought processes will change completely. To wipe us out before the other five cities would spoil their performance. It would lack showmanship. Style. No, they'll save us for last. Otherwise, it wouldn't be as much _fun_." He spat out the last word with unusual contempt.

"You despise them," she said after a moment. "Not just because of what they've done to us. To the world. You hate them on a personal level."

"They are an affront to everything I stand for," he told her coldly, without pausing in his work on X. "Everything about them, the Faithful even more than the Mavericks, is offensive from both a philosophical and a personal standpoint. Their beliefs, their society, their mentality... stagnant. Empty. Lifeless. _Worthless_. And the Mavericks are no better, willing and eager to destroy each other at a moment's notice with no need for reason or rationality. Should we fail, whichever of their 'societies' triumphs over the other, it will be an abomination. One last twisted joke, an eternal mockery of everything humanity and reploidkind ever meant. It _must not _come to pass."

"It won't," she told him firmly, steel in her own voice. "That's not going to happen, Lifesaver. We'll win. We'll beat them. Just like every time we have before."

"Yes," he said quietly, his anger cooling. "Yes, we will." Looking down at the sleeping Hunter before him, he checked the scans, nodded, and began closing his chest up. "You're right. I believe in that. I believe in _us_, Alia. Reploid and Robot Master alike... we _will _win this."

"That's different, too," she said after a moment. "Coming from you, I mean."

"Is it truly?" He asked, smiling slightly. "Perhaps you and X aren't the only ones who've changed over the course of this war."

"Becoming more optimistic, rather than less..." She let it hang until he looked over his shoulder, and saw that she was smiling, before finishing. "I like that."

"If nothing else, the fact that it runs contrary to our enemies' expectations alone makes it worth it," he commented lightly, turning back to X. "This might seem strange, but I find hope all the more meaningful when it is least expected. When despair and depression are the greatest, _that _is when hope is needed most. I have not given up, Alia. Neither have you, and neither has X. No matter how bad things get, we _will _not give up, any of us. From a certain perspective, one might even consider it part of my duty, as a doctor, to encourage that."

"I don't think it's strange at all," she told him, and he could tell she was being honest. "Thank you, Lifesaver. I think I needed to hear that, right now."

"Then I'm glad I said it," he told her, smiling as he finished up. "There. X is ready to go when he awakens again." He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Should I rouse him so that the two of you can go back to your quarters together, or would you prefer to bring him back without disturbing him?" Despite her appearance, like all reploids, Alia had more than enough strength to carry another easily.

"Wouldn't that look slightly ridiculous?" She asked, flushing slightly. "No matter how I did it?"

"You're concerned over appearances, at this time?" He teased her lightly.

"Of course not." She shook her head. "But-"

Whatever it was she was about to say, it was cut off as the building shook, as a crash louder than words could describe roared through the air.

"What was that?" Lifesaver asked a moment later, as he pulled himself off the floor; both of them had been knocked flat, along with the few other medics still working at this hour, but a quick examination of the room showed that none of the wounded Hunters currently undergoing repairs had fallen off of their tables, fortunately.

"Something hit us," Alia replied, climbing back to her feet. "Something big. Something _bad_. I'm afraid-"

"_Attention all personnel!_" Signas' voice roared over the PA system, cutting her off. "_Evacuate immediately! Maverick attack impending! The MHHQ is lost! Repeat, all personnel, evacuate immediately! Maverick attack impending! The MHHQ is lost!_"

"-it probably breached our defenses," she finished, growing pale. "Damn! Now, of all times!"

"No time for that," Lifesaver told her sharply as he turned back to X, quickly beginning the process of rousing him from his stasis. "Your rifle. Did you bring it?"

"I..." she hesitated. "No. It's still in my quarters. Foolish of me, I suppose."

"Yes, it was," he agreed clinically, without emotion, as X's eyes began to open. "Your quarters are on the way to the front door. Stop there on the way and get it. You'll likely need it before you escape from the city."

"What's going on?" The Second Blue Bomber asked, immediately picking up on the tension in the air. "What's happening?"

"_Alert!_" The base's computer shrieked, answering him. "_Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks..._"

"They've broken in," Alia told him as Lifesaver moved to the next patient; there were dozens, casualties of the bloodbath that the city the Hunters had protected for nearly a century had become. "We've lost the MHHQ. We have to leave, X. There's no time left."

"I was afraid of that," he said, standing. "I didn't think it would happen this soon, but... well, there's no time for that now. All right, everybody. Let's go."

"Go," Lifesaver echoed him, as he continued his work.

It took them both a moment to realize what he meant.

"Don't be stupid," X snarled first. "What are you-"

"Lifesaver?" Alia asked quietly, cutting him off.

"I'll follow you once I'm done waking everybody else up," he said, as the Hunter-a member of the 17th named Jameson-opened his eyes. "I'm hardly going to leave them here for the Mavericks to find. If I did that, I'd never be able to call myself a doctor again."

"We don't-" Alia started to say, before biting her lip.

"There's too many of them," X said quietly as Jameson climbed to his feet, confused but staying out of the conversation. "If the Mavericks are already inside, they'll find you before you finish."

"Maybe," Lifesaver said quietly, waking up the next one. "But I _will _save as many of them as I can before that happens. I will _not _leave them here to die, or worse, while I run." He glanced at the other medics. "The rest of you, leave. Go with X and Alia."

"Forget it, sir," one of them, a fifteen-year veteran named Tetsu, told him calmly as he and the other began doing the same with the patients. "The more of here, the faster we can get them up. The more of them we'll be able to save. They're going to need every man they can get."

"Foolish." Lifesaver smiled. "But it's your decision. Thank you."

"This is ridiculous!" Alia burst out, X silent now. "We'll need _you_, Lifesaver!"

"Hardly." Lifesaver shook his head, moving on to another prone Hunter. "Doctor Hazil oversaw the medical department before I was even activated. He's capable of doing so once again, should it be necessary. I'm sorry, but the fact of the matter is that at best, I am no less expendable than any of these Hunters here. Which makes it my choice. My decision. My _duty_, as both a member of the Maverick Hunters, and as a doctor." He turned to them, resolute. "I'm sorry."

"Lifesaver..." Alia whispered, before suddenly moving forward to hug him.

"Goodbye, Alia," he told her, returning the embrace and meeting X's eyes over her shoulder. "X, I've forwarded everything I've learned about your condition to Countess and Hazil. Hopefully, they will be able to succeed where I have failed. Tell Zero..." He took a deep breath. "Tell him I was wrong. I was always wrong about him. And if you think it will mean anything to him... that I'm sorry for that."

X didn't speak. He simply held out a hand, and Lifesaver shook it once, as the grudge that had kept them from becoming friends for thirty years faded away.

"Take care of each other, both of you," he told them, releasing Alia and returning to his work. "Live. Win. And find happiness. I'm counting on you."

When he looked that way again, they were gone, as were all of the Hunters who had been awakened already.

He didn't keep track of time as he continued his work, as the computer continued to blare its alarm, as more explosions shook the base, as screams and shouts and the sounds of combat grew louder and closer. He simply continued rousing the unconscious patients, many of whom were so wounded that they could barely walk. Every time, he told them what was happening as quickly as possible before ordering them out, and moving on to the next.

There were less than half a dozen left when the door to the medical bay exploded inwards.

"Can Mister Hazil come out to play?" A crude, guttural voice growled, as the massive brute named Violen stomped in.

"We told you this already back when we were reading up," the one named Serges chided him, following him in, along with their third companion, Agile. "Hazil quit decades ago. There's a new guy running the show here now. Name of Lifesaver."

"That would be me," Lifesaver greeted them calmly, drawing his beam saber and looking them over before nodding at Agile. "You would be the most appropriate. If you don't mind?"

"Ooooh, one-on-one?" Agile snickered. "Is it _C__hristmas?_ By all means! Come on, doc!"

Lifesaver charged him without fear, knowing he had no chance.

Less than a minute later, he was proven right, and found a reaper waiting for him.

"_Not bad. Not bad at all_."

**February 2, 2187, 3:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"_Alert! Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks..._"

The base's computer continued screaming its alarm long after it had ceased to be necessary; the fact that the MHHQ was lost was now apparent from the destruction in the halls and the corpses scattered throughout it. Every time they turned a corner or went through a door, it seemed, there was another body lying nearby, another friend who hadn't made it out in time. Sometimes she didn't recognize them, and that was preferable to the alternative, but all too often even that miniscule grace was denied to her.

Just as common were the enemy, mainly berserker Infected rampaging blindly, though every so often there would be a Faithful in white and gold. Whichever it was, X and the other Hunters who'd come with them from the medical bay dealt with them easily, their fury even greater than their sorrow at the invasion and destruction of their home. The MHHQ had fallen, but not without cost, in blood and lives and vengeance.

Alia had remained silent ever since they'd left the Med Bay, not from fear or from grief, but simply because she had no words to describe what she saw around her as they ran. She'd known it was coming, as much as the rest of them, but that was different from the reality of the MHHQ's destruction around them, and the deaths that accompanied it. Hunters and staff, veterans of multiple decades and greenhorns who'd joined to help fight the Faithful as much as the Mavericks, their corpses littered the building side by side.

"Big group of them up ahead!" X warned the others, and Alia obligingly held back as the rest of them dashed forward to meet the enemy, once more cursing herself for leaving her magrifle in her quarters instead of bringing it with her everywhere she went, like Donia and Lily had told her to. The path they were taking towards the front doors-which, as far as she knew, were still being defended against Mavericks, the entry point they'd broken open at the rear-would take them past there, but it had still been a foolish mistake, regardless of her feelings on the matter.

Looking around desperately for any way she could help, she spied another friend she'd lost. Adrian, the ancient human who'd headed up the MHHQ funeral department, lying face down in the doorway that had led to his office, a shotgun in hand. Knowing what he would have wanted, she took the weapon from his limp hands without a word and checked it; it was empty, but that didn't mean it was useless. One of the Mavericks had his back to her as he dueled a saber-wielding Hunter from the 30th, and it was easy for her to club him over the head with the gun.

"Thanks," the Hunter grunted, finishing the Maverick off as X obliterated the last of the other enemies. Catching her eye, the man she loved nodded once, which she returned just as silently before they kept going, through the death and destruction that had come to their home. Fortunately, they reached the door to her quarters before running into any more enemies, but her relief left her the moment she discarded the empty shotgun, as another group of Mavericks erupted from further down the hall.

"Get it," X told her quietly, facing them down, and Alia didn't waste time replying before ducking into the door. She crossed the room in record time, snatching the magrifle down from where she'd left it atop the wardrobe. She kept her ammo inside it, at the bottom in the back; snatching it all up and loading the magrifle, she turned and ran back outside just in time to see the Hunters finish off the last of the enemy. They were all looking forward, down the hall, their backs to her, focused entirely on the current threat.

And because of that, none of them saw when a supposedly dead Faithful who'd been slumped in the corner with half of his head gone suddenly returned to life, his one remaining eye lighting back up as he snatched a silver hilt from his belt. Activating dash boots without even regaining his footing, he hurled himself bodily towards X's back, a beam dagger in hand aimed for the side of the Second Blue Bomber's skull, face contorted in a snarl of insane hatred.

She saw it happen, and the moment she did, it was as if time had suddenly slowed down. She'd been a Navigator nearly all her life, and she was the best there was at it, at battlefield analysis and extrapolation. She knew instantly that X's life was in danger, that he didn't see the enemy, _wouldn't _see in time, and neither would any of the others. There was only one way to stop the Faithful from killing him, only one thing that could save the man she loved-the man who was the world's only hope-from death. And she held it in her arms.

She didn't think. She didn't have time. She simply raised the magrifle, as the Faithful continued towards X's back, and did what she'd done when Donia and Lily had taken her down to the firing range for practice. She aimed, and fired, and watched as the bullet slammed through what was left of the enemy's head. Only when he fell, clearly dead this time, and the Hunters turned in surprise, did her eyes widen as she realized what she'd just done.

"Alia?" X whispered.

"I..." Her eyes fell upon the ruin of the Faithful's head; his eye was still open, his teeth still bared in a frozen rictus, and her hands began to shake despite herself. "I didn't have time. He was going to kill you. I had to... I had to..." She managed to keep herself from falling to her knees or dropping the magrifle, but she felt sick, more than she'd thought she would. When X embraced her, she didn't fight it, but she didn't cry or scream or do anything else, other than to clutch him to her just as firmly, breathing slowly and deeply.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her. "I never wanted you to have to do that."

"I never wanted to have to," she agreed, just as quietly, before stepping back and forcing herself to regain her calm, or at least to approximate it as much as she could at the moment. "We don't have time for this. We need to go. We can talk once we're safe."

"Yes." X slowly nodded, the rest of the Hunters silent. "Let's go." Turning, he led the group onward, and Alia followed along with the rest of them, determinedly not looking at the face of the first man she'd ever killed with her own hands again. They rounded the corner, and immediately, she saw something that almost made her break down a second time. Fio's body, or part of it, at least; the tiny Navigator had been torn in half and left to lie in a corner. Before she could react, though, they were already moving on, and she forced herself to put it out of her mind. There would be time for grief later, once they'd reached Mecha.

"Yeah, we're coming," X said suddenly, and everybody glanced at him as he raised a hand to the side of his helmet, waiting several moments before he continued. "No, keep going. Get as many of them out of the city as possible. We're doing fine; we'll be at the doors in a couple more minutes, barring too many more fights."

"Auto?" Alia guessed, and the Second Blue Bomber nodded.

"He got most of Douglas'... most of the mechanics out," he told her, only stumbling on their fallen friend's name for a moment. "They've launched all of our remaining airships, but the enemy figured we'd do that. There's a lot of anti-aircraft weaponry out there. We haven't lost any of the Rogumers, but they're all taking heavy fire."

"What about Project Cronos?" She asked quickly. She knew more than most did about his and Auto's latest new weapon, one they were planning on saving for the final conflict. At first, she'd recoiled upon hearing just what they'd come up with, disturbed by the implications of the idea, but that hadn't lasted. With complete extinction on their doorstep, they no longer had the luxury of such concerns. Troubling as the very concept of Project Cronos was, its effectiveness was unarguable, and that was all that counted here and now.

"Every one of those ships is carrying a backup of the data," he assured her. "As soon as Auto gets to Mecha, he'll get the guys there started on building them."

"Project Cronos?" one of the other Hunters asked curiously.

"A surprise for next time," X explained, his eyes cold. "They'll pay for this. Every last one of them."

"Good enough for me, boss," one of the 17th grunted, and the other Hunters all made various sounds of agreement, as they continued down the hall.

Several more times before they reached their destination, they were jumped by roving groups of the enemy. Fortunately, all were relatively small, and there were never any of Sigma's generals or Wily's disciples with them. Regardless, twice more, Alia was forced to join in in order to save one of the Hunters from injury or death. Both times, she almost lost control of herself after the kill, but both times she was able to pull herself together, and they kept going.

The condition of the MHHQ grew worse and worse the further they went, the number of bodies increasing the longer they were there, most of them friends she recognized, more names and faces to mourn when she had time. Several times they had to take detours, around collapsed halls filled with rubble from a fallen ceiling or raging flames too heavy to get through. Once, they even had to break through a wall themselves to get around the devastation, accomplished thanks to the Hunter from the 30th, who carried grenades.

"More coming, up ahead," one of the Hunters warned them as they emerged from that side path back into the main halls, near the front now. "Here we go."

"Wait!" X cautioned, looking ahead. "Those are ours! Arvis, is that you?"

"Sir!" The 17th's burly second-in-command shouted back, leading a similar group of Hunters and staff. "Wondered where you'd gotten to!"

"Let's get moving," X told him as the two groups merged, both turning towards the door to the front lobby. "There's nothing more we can do for anybody here." His voice was calm, his gaze steady, but Alia knew how much that deceptively simple statement had actually cost him. More than anything, she wanted to take him into her arms, as he had when she'd needed it minutes ago, but there was no time for that. All she could do was run and fight by his side along with the rest as they fled their fallen home.

The lobby was the only part of the building she'd seen since leaving the Med Bay that was unchanged by the attack; there was no damage to the room, no dead bodies to avert her eyes from. The only noticeable difference from every day she'd walked through it during her decades at the MHHQ was that it was completely empty. Nobody said a word as they ran through and out the front door, leaving the building that had been their shared home for the final time. There was no need for words. They all knew what the others were thinking, without asking.

"Shit," Arvis growled as they saw the city outside; it was worse than she'd imagined, worse than what they'd just escaped from by far. Under the night sky, Tokyo burned and died, the west side before them bearing the worst of it. The noise was even louder out here, screams of victims mixing with shouts of fury and maniacal laughter along with the sizzle of plasma, the crack of magweaponry firing and far too many explosions.

"I didn't..." Alia whispered, staring in horror; just as much as the MHHQ, Tokyo had been her home, her city, for nearly all her life. "I didn't think it would be this bad." She'd seen it before dozens of times over, in every city the 17th had fought to evacuate when the wall had finally come down, but that had always been from a distance, on the other side of her desk projector in the War Room. This was the first time she'd actually been in the middle of the savage chaos of a dying city herself on foot, the first time she'd seen and heard and smelled the devastation all around her.

"It's going to get even worse, before they're done," X murmured somberly, his own eyes holding both fury and sorrow despite his calm features, the face of one who'd seen this all before far too many times. "They're here to destroy, not to conquer. They won't stop until nothing remains but dust and ash for the wasteland to take." He shook his head sharply. "Fortunately, we won't be here to see that part. Let's keep moving."

"North or south, sir?" Arvis asked, looking around carefully; in order to evacuate to the east, they would have to circle around the MHHQ through the streets, while keeping far enough away from the building to avoid the entry point they'd made at the back.

"South," X decided after a moment's thought. "We'll go past the Karashita Tower."

"Enemy are already there, boss," one of the Hunters told him. "Brought the whole damn thing down. That's what they used to break into the MHHQ. Dropped it on us like a bunch of goddamn lumberjacks."

"The more things change..." X muttered, his voice unusually bitter for a moment, before he continued. "All right, we'll avoid the lake area and go through the slums instead. That should keep us clear of the main force if we move fast enough. Keep an eye out for civilians on the way." The others all nodded, and they descended the steps in front of the building before turning to the left down the first street available. There were no enemy in sight, and for a moment, Alia almost thought they'd gotten away, that they'd be able to make it out of the city without further conflict.

And then, from out of a side alley up ahead, a giant in white and gold emerged, standing firmly in their path.

"I can not allow you to go any further," Tretista Kelvarian, the largest of Wily's disciples, said as he activated a gigantic, blue-black beam axe.

"Sir?" One of the Hunters asked X.

"Stay back, all of you," X told them, walking forward. "Watch your backs in case any of them try to ambush us. I'll deal with him." He raised his buster, but before he could fire, a third party interfered, falling from the smoke-filled skies above like the wrath of god to bring his own axe-a blade that was made of metal rather than plasma-down upon Kelvarian's shoulder, carving a massive wound into his torso.

"_Go!_" King roared, leaping back as the disciple screamed in pain and lashed out with a horizontal cut in retaliation.

"What he said!" X yelled to the rest of them, and they all darted down another alley.

"How dare you!" They heard Kelvarian bellow behind them. Alia risked a glance over her shoulder as they ran, and wished she hadn't; he was transforming, his already oversized body expanding into even greater immensity, as two more heads sprouted from his shoulders, all three twisting into hideous canine snarls. "I am Tretista Kelvarian, the Stone Disciple, and you will not stand in the way of God's will!"

"He gonna be okay?" One of the others asked, prompting a snort of derision from Arvis.

"That's _King _you're talking about there, son," he told him. "If he doesn't have all three heads off inside of a minute, I'll eat my next paycheck."

"You ain't _getting _a next paycheck, Arvis," one of the others reminded him.

"Later, people," X warned them, and they shut up. "Keep quiet and sharp. We're not through this yet." They emerged from the alley out into the main road again, and immediately saw that X's words had been true; there was a barricade up ahead, and not one of their own. Faithful were behind it, busters and magrifles all aimed at them. Without so much as a second of surprise, the Hunters immediately began firing, which the enemy returned. Alia was no slower than the rest of them, bringing her magrifle up and shooting again and again.

And then pain slammed through her, more pain than she'd ever felt before, and she stumbled back, magrifle slipping from her hands as she stared in shock at the hole through her chest and the synthblood spilling from it.

"Alia?" X said, his voice sounding faint and distant, as if she were underwater. She saw him turn towards her, saw the terror and disbelief on his face, as she fell backwards, her feet slipping from beneath her. "_Alia!_"

"X," she whispered, as her vision took on a red tint, as the pain increased, as a strange numbness began creeping over the rest of her body. "I... I'm..." She tried to finish, unaware herself of what she wanted to say, but she couldn't find the words, or the strength to speak them.

And then her vision darkened, and she said no more.

**February 2, 2187, 3:30 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo **

"_Alert! Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks on base! Alert! Mavericks on..._"

"This way, Commander!" Donia yelled, as those who had been in the War Room at the time of the attack ran through its halls towards the front. Seeing a Maverick ahead of her, she popped off a shot from her magrifle as expertly as any Hunter, and the enemy went down, blood spurting from his skull. Even then, the rabid Infected attempted to crawl towards them, and she finished him off with a second shot. "Come on!"

"The rest of you go ahead," Signas told them, glancing down a side hall. "There are others I must escort."

"With all due respect, sir, we don't have time for that!" She shouted angrily. "Every man for himself or not, you're the most important person on site! Getting you out of here is our top priority, all of us!"

"Not quite," he told her, and watched her eyes widen in realization.

"The big shots," she said slowly. "Prime Minister Kakei and the rest. They're all up on the second floor, in the south wing." She shook her head sharply. "They're probably all already dead, and if they're not, they will be soon. Don't waste your life on odds that low, sir."

"I do not have a choice in the matter," he told her. "I have my duty, to the leaders of the free world, even now... but you are right about the odds. That is why I will not risk anybody else's life except my own. Go, now. If I do not follow you to Mecha... well, I have already taken measures in regards to my successor. That's an _order_, Donia."

"Commander..." She started to say, before biting it off and looking away. After a moment, she met his eyes again. "You told me there's never been anybody before, earlier. Not one single girl, even once."

"What..." He started to ask, before remembering. "Oh. Yes. Is there a reason you bring this up now?"

"This," she said, handing her magrifle to another Navigator before lunging for him. Before he could move, she was kissing him, arms wrapped around his neck to pull his head low enough for her to reach. It happened so quickly, by the time he realized it, she was already letting go and stepping back.

"Donia, what the _hell_?" He demanded after a stunned moment.

"Don't get the wrong idea, sir," she told him, taking her magrifle back. "Nothing personal, but you're not my type. That was because nobody deserves to die like that, especially not my Commanding Officer, is all. Call it incentive to make it back. Do it, and I'll set you up with Lily. And trust me, sir, she's got a _lot _more on her mind than _that_." She glanced over her shoulder. "We should get going."

"I as well," Signas told her, turning away before speaking again. "If I do survive, and I arrive in Mecha to find you absent, I will be _highly _disappointed, Donia. That goes for the rest of you as well. Don't let that happen."

"Not a chance, sir," Donia said, with a smile that wasn't in her eyes. "I ain't dying here. I've got a _lot _more payback on these bastards to get out of my system. See you in Mecha." Without waiting for a response, she dashed off, the others with her.

The elevator, predictably, was nonfunctional, but he was surprised to find the stairwell empty rather than crawling with Mavericks as he'd feared. On the second floor, he found a small pack of them, and was quick to dispatch two with his beam foil before they could surround him; the remaining pair were dealt with in short order as well, and he continued on. Fortunately, they were the only ones he encountered before reaching the quarters assigned to the world leaders, above the room in which they habitually met.

"Ah, Signas," Prime Minister Kakei greeted him calmly as he entered. "We were wondering if you would come." The rest of the politicians were gathered with him in the room, holding a variety of weapons.

"Prime Minister," he told him. "We need to go. The MHHQ is lost to us, as is Tokyo. Our only option is evacuation to Mecha. King will take us in."

"Go, then," Kakei replied. "And quickly."

It took Signas a moment to realize what he meant.

"I appreciate the thought, but my duty is clear," he said stiffly. "I must see to your survival at any cost, even the risk of my own life."

"Don't be stupid, Signas," President Largo of the United States barked sharply, only betrayed by the amount of sweat running down his face. "You're a hundred times more important than any of us now."

"That's ridiculous," Signas blurted. "You are the leaders of the free world."

"What free world?" Kakei asked him quietly. "As you said, Tokyo is lost to us. My nation is dead. As are nearly all of the rest of ours, and those that remain will not last long. Our reason for existence died with them."

"Mecha can only sustain a population of a million, at the most," Premier Li of China explained further. "One million humans, reploids and Robot Masters, the only survivors of this dreadful war, and before it is over, that number will likely drop even further. Every single one of those people will be necessary for what comes after, for the rebuilding. Prioritization will be required. And as much as we loathe to admit it, we are now perfectly useless, one and all." She lowered her head, smiling bitterly. "Without our nations, we are unimportant."

"That is not-" Signas started to object.

"Don't bullshit us, Signas," Prime Minister Kakei cut him off, his voice turning harsh. "It's true. We all know it's true. Even if you win this, you're not going to be able to repopulate the entire world. Not even close. Whatever new order arises from the ashes of this war will be completely different from what existed before. The last thing anybody there is going to need is a bunch of has-beens full of old grudges and petty rivalries running the show. One leader, for one society that will rebuild, is what will be required."

"You can't be serious," Signas said slowly.

"We are very serious," Kakei told him. "And if you require a formality, then we will oblige you. Here and now, with every leader of the free world gathered, I propose that we transfer all power to Commander Signas on a _permanent _basis rather than a temporary one. Once done, this cannot be undone. All opposed?" Nobody spoke, and after a moment, he continued. "All who approve?" This time, every single one of them raised a hand, Kakei among them. "Unanimous approval. It is done."

"Wait-" Signas started to say, but he fell silent as they all dropped to one knee before him.

"Lord Signas," Kakei whispered, his face no longer stoic. "You are now absolute ruler of the free world. We hereby transfer all power, and all responsibility, into your hands. You must save our people, now. We will trust you to do what we could not. Save humanity, Lord Signas, and reploidkind as well... and yes, even the Robot Masters. Save our people. Please."

"Kakei..." Signas murmured, as they stood again, as he realized why they'd armed themselves. "You know that you won't stand a chance."

"Of course not," Kakei scoffed. "We're politicians, not warriors, Signas. But our busters and magrifles are perfectly functional, and there's only one way into this wing. We'll be able to take a few of them with us, at least. Maybe even more than a few, if we're lucky. God knows we all want it enough. It's only a drop in the bucket, but if we can reduce their numbers at all... even a little... it'll be enough."

"It'll be revenge, against the bastards who took everything away from us," Prime Minister Shepherd of Britain added. "And that's good enough for me, for now. So long as you finish it. You're taking on our vengeance as well as our responsibilities and our power, Signas. We're counting on you. Make those bastards pay. Stop them. For England. For the world."

"You will die," Signas told them, feeling like an idiot for stating the obvious. "All of you."

"We will," Kakei agreed, and now, finally, his calm facade slipped. "Signas, we have failed, all of us, in our responsibilities. We could not save our people, could not protect the nations we were chosen to lead. You have done more in that regard than all of us combined. It is only right that we entrust their future to you and the Hunters. Why do you think we asked you to choose a successor in case of your own death? We decided to do this as soon as Tokyo was attacked. It might not be much, it might not even mean a thing... but just this once... one last time... we _will_ do what we can for the world."

Signas didn't say anything more. He simply held out his hand, and Kakei shook it, before he turned and left them to die, as he had been ordered.

He didn't see anybody else as he ran down the halls for some time, at least not anybody living; many of the dead bodies lying discarded around the base were familiar to him, Tai among them. Forcing himself to keep running, he promised vengeance to each and every one. Before he reached the stairs again, however, he heard the sounds of a massive horde of Mavericks ahead, too many for him to fight by himself. Swearing under his breath, he darted into a side room, one which he immediately placed as one on the outside perimeter of the building.

Fortunately, he had planned ahead for this possibility. Opening his chest compartment, he reached inside and pulled out a collapsor grenade. Setting it for ten seconds, he placed it against the outer wall, then ran back to the other side of the room, covering his ears and closing his eyes. The blast burned through his eyelids all the same, and the sound nearly deafened him. Shaking his head as his vision cleared, he ran forward and jumped through the hole he'd made, hoping that the Mavericks behind him would assume it to be one of their own adding to the destruction.

He landed on his feet, in the street outside, surrounded by chaos and destruction. It was even worse than he'd feared, but he forced himself to put his own thoughts on the matter aside. As much as he loved the city, as much as hated those who had brought it low, he had no time for emotion. He had to escape, and to help anybody he saw on the way do the same. Beam foil in hand, he turned towards the east, and started to run.

And then, as he passed an alleyway, pain beyond anything he'd ever felt before slammed into his side, punching through him to emerge from the other.

"I was hoping you'd come this way," a hatefully familiar voice murmured as he stared down at the metal shaft that had impaled him, and the pointed plasma spearhead burning at the end. Volteel Biblio, one of Wily's disciples, was holding it, rising from where he'd been concealed in the alley with a smirk on his blind features. "Passed up a lot of good targets just in case you did, Commander Signas. And lucky me, I was right."

"You..." Signas growled, then gasped, synthblood spilling from his mouth.

_Internal operations energy at thirty-five percent,_ his systems reported. _Energy loss cannot be contained. Prepare to enter auto-stasis. _

"Negative," Signas growled, jerking away and pulling the weapon from Biblio's hands. "Override."

_Warning_, his systems responded. _Energy loss will result in imminent shutdown of all systems within minutes. Failure to enter auto-stasis may result in permanent loss of control chip. Confirm. _

"_Override_," Signas repeated, reaching down and pulling the beam spear out as he accepted his own death. The noise it made was hideous, and the pain even more, but he forced himself to remain standing as he snapped the weapon in half, draining one of his sub-tanks. Even as the energy surged through him, he knew it was only buying time, exchanging a quick and immediate death for a slower, longer one. But he would not be the only one to perish from this confrontation.

"Going down fighting, is it?" Biblio sneered, unconcerned by the loss of his weapon. "How very fitting of a leader. Very well, then! Allow me to oblige you!" His body twisted and turned hideously, human form ripped apart from the inside by another as he transformed. An eel reploid emerged, bulbous torso stretching into a long neck, arms and legs similarly sinuous. Red eyes glared, as blind as before, as twin tails lashed behind him, ropelike. "I am Volteel Biblio, the Lightning Disciple! Dance with me, Commander! Hahahahaha!"

Signas didn't bother replying; words would be wasted, and he would need every last bit of energy. Instead, he dashed forward, beam foil in hand.

"Fool!" Biblio laughed, as his tails whipped up, each launching a ball of electricity, only for Signas to knock them both away with his sword. "Huh?!" He pulled his head back to avoid being decapitated, but Signas continued forward, opening a wound across his chest even as he jumped away. "Argh! Not just a paper-pusher after all, huh? Fine!" Landing, he slammed his hands and both tails into the ground, and Signas jumped away just in time as electricity surged across the surface of the street beneath him. The effect was only momentary; by the time he landed, it was gone.

Forcing himself to stand straight despite the agony he was in, he feigned calmness, raised an eyebrow and made a condescending, beckoning gesture with his free hand.

Snarling, Biblio began flinging more spheres of electricity. Motionless save for his sword arm, Signas deflected them all in under a second, unharmed. The blind Disciple considered this before backflipping away, and vanishing into the ground; only now did Signas see a hole behind him in the alleyway.

"Come out, coward," he shouted, even as he scanned his surroundings for more holes; spotting several, he calculated which would be most likely for Biblio to emerge from.

"Oh, I will!" Biblio's voice echoed from several holes, giggling wildly. "But where will I come out from, hmmm? I went to a lot of trouble setting up this ambush, Commander. You don't want all that hard work to go to waste, do you?" He fell silent then, only for his head to pop out from a hole in the side of a nearby building, even as his tails emerged from another in the ground between him and Signas, crackling with lightning. "Ha-wha?" Signas had already been dashing forward; hurdling the tails easily, he slashed at Biblio's face.

Unfortunately, the Disciple was still slightly too fast; though the beam foil sliced through his face horizontally, he was able to pull his head back in and avoid having his entire skull bisected. His tails vanished as well, and Signas waited calmly, scanning the area around him.

"_That _does it!" The Disciple seethed. "You want to finish this, Hunter? By all means!" He sprang out from another hole, landed on his feet, and raised both tails over his head, charging them even as Signas dashed forward, towards him. "Come on, if you've got the balls!" As they closed, both tails whipped out, wrapping around Signas and electrocuting him.

Before they did, Signas raised his saber arm over his head so that it would not be caught, and ignored the agony to thrust his foil between Biblio's eyes.

"Only cowards fear pain," he told him coldly as the Disciple stood motionless, before falling forward, dead. "Soldiers live with it." Stumbling back, he drained another sub-tank, prolonging his life a short time more; even though he had won, blood and energy still leaked from the first, fatal wound. His vision swam, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he realized that they could no longer be trusted; a second Biblio stood above the corpse of the first, this one an insubtantial image through which he could see the building behind.

And then he split into two, one vanishing while the other remained, before another ghost fell upon him, this one clad in a cloak of gray.

"_Yo, shithead," _the skull-faced Robot Master snarled. "_Get over here_." Biblio stared at him, and then he began to shrink. Wailing, the Disciple's spirit shrank into a sphere of light, which the Robot Master snatched out of the air. Taking it beneath his cloak, he turned towards Signas, scythe in hand. "_Commander. Are you ready to go?_"

"Not yet," Signas managed to grunt. Still in pain beyond anything he'd imagined, he managed to force his legs into motion, as he continued down the street, slow but determined. "Soon. But not just yet."

The reaper in gray made no objections, but Signas felt his eyes on him all the way, and knew.

He continued to walk.

**February 2, 2187, 5:00 AM **

**Streets of Tokyo **

Tokyo burned. And it was beautiful.

"Stop screwing around!" Zero yelled, leaping into the air and dashing forward in a move Dynamo recognized all too well, after all the times he'd sparred against the Maverick who'd created it. Bit's Air Slash, combining a charging cut with an air dash, the latter an ability reverse-engineered by Doctor Doppler from X's Retribution Armor in action. Zero had taken the move from Bit's smoking carcass, just as Dynamo had stolen the abilities from seven foes throughout the course of the war, one of which he decided to respond with.

"That's _my _line!" He shot back, mock-enraged, as he let fly with the ability he'd copied from X himself nearly two years ago. The Hyper Cannon, a massive double-blast from his buster far beyond its normal capabilities, one that could obliterate an entire building. Even Zero was unable to cut an attack that overwhelming, and he knew it, pulling out of the Air Slash to drop back to earth under the shot. Of course, Dynamo was waiting for him, dashing forward beneath his own attack to strike at Zero with his beam staff.

"Be honest!" He continued to taunt Zero, mouth running on automatic without need for conscious thought, as their blades met again and again. "You _know _you love it! Just as much as I do, as much as we _all _do! The smell of burning buildings and charred corpses! The sounds of screaming with a wonderful explosive accompaniment! The way the fires tint the sky above us! The feel of the smoke on your skin! And let's not forget the taste of fresh blood! It's all so _wonderful!_ Isn't it, Mister Wily? Or would you prefer Mister _Omega?_"

He saw the instant when Zero's eyes changed, going flat, the blazing fires of hatred giving way to a colder, calmer wrath. He knew it would happen, and when it did, he was ready for it. At close range, Zero suddenly shifted his grip on his saber, before slamming it blade-down into the ground and channeling electricity through it, a move he'd stolen from the Disciple Volteel Biblio. Fortunately, Dynamo had seen him use it before, and jumped away in time, even as he threw one of his plasma explosives down.

"Whoops," he said, realizing too late he'd used his left hand rather than his right. "Wrong one. Aw, geez."

The explosion blew them _both_ down the street in opposite directions, skidding along the ground before lying still.

"Yo, Zero," Dynamo called over after a moment of silence in which neither of them moved; they were alone for the moment, neither of them with backup on hand.

"Yeah?" Zero asked after a moment.

"Be honest," he said, making no move to rise until he saw his opponent do the same. "You have to admit. That was pretty funny."

"Heh." Zero chuckled, sounding disgusted with himself for doing so. "Yeah, okay."

"Thought so." He pushed himself up on his elbows. "You _do _have a sense of humor. Does that stick-in-the-mud X have one too?"

"Of course he does." Zero snorted, starting to climb back to his feet. "Ours just aren't as twisted as yours is."

"It's all a matter of perspective." Dynamo shrugged, doing the same. "Just between you and me? This wasn't my idea in the first place. Not that I _mind_, but hey, details."

"Really?" Zero raised an eyebrow as they faced each other down, fifteen feet between them, in the center of the dying city. Something Dynamo couldn't quite define changed in his eyes before he spoke again. "You know, there's a way to beat it. Internal self-deletion. It's a bitch, but it's possible, even without a silver bullet from Mecha."

"Really?" Dynamo drawled, before shrugging. "Cool, I guess. Not sure _why _you're telling me this, but whatever."

"Because I'm not like you," Zero told him solemnly. "And in other ways, I am."

"And people say _I _don't make any sense," Dynamo replied after thinking about it for a moment. "Anyways, are we going to do this, or what?"

"Buddy, you read my mind," Zero said with a smirk before lunging into the air, carving a slash through it that became a crescent blade of energy flying straight towards him. Another Master Weapon copied from one of Dynamo's comrades, this time Agile. The Sonic Boom. Like the Air Slash, he was familiar with it, enough to sidestep it easily as he dashed forward, while shifting his buster to another of his own copied abilities, this one taken from the carcass of a Robot Master. In less than a second, the air was full of circular metal sawblades, dozens of them flying at different angles. There was only a single opening, and Zero charged through it upon landing.

Laughing, Dynamo caught Zero's beam saber in his buster hand, retracting the weapon. And as his fingers flew, sheared off by the blade, he took advantage of his enemy's moment of surprise, and slammed his beam staff through the Crimson Hunter's off-hand.

Swearing, Zero leaped back and away, his hand a maimed mess; only one finger actually fell off, but that was enough. Deactivating his saber, he snatched it out of the air and jumped away as well, landing back where the explosion had blasted him a minute ago.

"What are you playing at?" Zero asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

"Playing?" Dynamo scoffed, pretending offense. "How rude! War isn't a game! Oh, wait, never mind, I always forget!" Shifting his buster back over his wounded hand, he produced a razor-edged steel playing card, yet another ability he'd taken from one of Mecha's men, and held it in his saber hand along with Zero's finger. "Never was much good at it, though. I prefer blackjack. Anyways, speaking of cards to play, pop quiz. How many Master Weapons do you have from this war? Wait, no, let me guess, it's seven! Am I right?"

"What business is it of yours?" Zero asked suspiciously.

"Because that's how many _I _have!" He explained, holding up the finger he'd claimed. "And _this _makes eight! Perfect for the finale, don't you think? Go on, take mine! You _know _you'll get something good out of them."

"Maybe once you're dead," Zero shot back, raising his beam saber once more.

"Dead?" Dynamo made a face. "Me? Naaaaaah. That's just not my style. I'm a survivor, and that means I should _probably_ cut this off here and now. Sorry, better luck next time!" Saluting mockingly, he warped away; though the Hunters' Starnet prevented him from going further than a few blocks, that was enough. As soon as he landed, he repeated it, again and again, hop-skipping across the city until he was back at the harbor, where they'd landed.

"Lord Dynamo!" A goon shouted, seeing him. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm faking it for cheap giggles," Dynamo retorted sarcastically. "Is Doppler around? Or Serges?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Doctor Doppler told him, stepping out from a door aboard one of their ships onto the deck. "And I see you've been amusing yourself in your customary manner. Sadomasochism again, Dynamo? Really?"

"No offense, but you're the second-to-last person I want to be having _that _sort of conversation with," Dynamo told him. "Maybe third, if we count the boss and the _boss _as separate. Not really sure how that works."

"Fair enough," Doppler said dryly. "At any rate, would you like to step aboard? I _was _going to go back out, but I suppose I can patch you back up before I do. You're lucky you caught me before I departed."

"_That's _different," Dynamo commented, jumping on deck and following him back inside. "Normally, I've got no luck at all."

"I wouldn't complain, if I were you," Doppler advised, leading him into a operating room, albeit a much smaller one than most. "Lady Luck might hear you and decide to oblige you."

"_A _lady might," Dynamo shot back, sitting down on the table. "But _luck_ isn't the name I'd call her by."

They both stared at each other, then winced and waited. Nothing happened.

"She _must _be distracted," Doppler guessed after a moment. "Normally, you'd be writhing in agony for that one, even with the mood she's been in. Possibly both of us."

"Personally, the less we know, the better, I figure," Dynamo suggested, grimacing. "Normally I figure the exact opposite, but considering the way the _boss _has been acting about her? Yeah, no."

"I think, were you to take a poll of our comrades, you would meet with unanimous approval," Doppler replied dryly. "Well. Maybe not Ferret."

"Ugh." Dynamo rolled his eyes. "Can we talk about something else? And this is _me _asking this, here."

"By all means." Doppler began doing something with some medical equipment Dynamo had no hope of understanding. "How badly are you wounded, exactly?"

"Eh, I've had worse." Dynamo shrugged. "My hand's the worst of it. Ooh, that reminds me." Focusing on the finger he held, he activated his Weapons Copy, and smiled as a new ability appeared alongside the rest. A saber technique, of course. The Plasma Cutter.

"Dare I ask who it was you engaged out there?" Doppler inquired.

"Zero," he answered, tossing the finger into a nearby waste disposal chute. "First time I've seen him since he switched sides on us."

"Oh?" Doppler asked, sounding amused now. "How was he?"

"Same as ever." Dynamo scoffed. "You know Zero. _Did _manage to get a laugh out of him for once, though."

"Really?" Doppler glanced over his shoulder. "You must have said something good, even by your standards."

"It's so nice to be appreciated," Dynamo replied, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. "Somebody's gotta keep the laughs going around here. We don't exactly have a surplus of them."

"Oh, there are other sources of humor, even with us," Doppler told him, and something was different in his voice now, though his tone was as calm as before; Dynamo couldn't quite place what it was, and that attracted his attention more than anything else. "I saw something rather amusing on the way over. Another public service announcement from the good Commander Signas."

"Signas?" Dynamo frowned, raising his head to look at him; no matter _how _screwy he was, that didn't add up. "Saying something _funny?_ You gotta be joking. That guy's more boring than _Kelvarian_."

"It wasn't intentional," Doppler explained, back still to him. "It seems he's finally assumed total dictatorship, not that they have much to dictate over any more. His first act, believe it or not, was to offer a universal pardon to all uninfected Mavericks who would be willing to join their side." He glanced over his shoulder again, and his eyes were sharper, more focused, than Dynamo had ever seen them. "Amusing, is it not?"

Dynamo met his eyes. He stared. He blinked.

"You're _joking_," he said eventually.

"I assure you, I'm quite serious," Doppler told him, turning back to what he was doing again. "He really did."

"Oh, _wow_." Looking back at the ceiling, Dynamo laughed, long and loud, before continuing. "You're right. That _is _the funniest thing he's _ever _said. Was _he _serious?"

"This is Signas we're talking about," Doppler reminded him.

"Right, right, stupid question." Dynamo snorted, smacking his forehead with his uninjured hand. "Of course he was serious. He doesn't know how _not _to. Wow, that's special." He considered it. "Funny thing is, if he'd tried it a year and a half ago, he might have actually gotten something worth spit, before we started hunting down everybody hiding out there in the wasteland away from the city-states. This late in the game, though? Not gonna happen."

"Indeed," Doppler agreed, something still off in his voice that Dynamo couldn't quite place. "It's likely nothing significant at all will result from it." He turned away then, walking towards the door. "I'll see to you momentarily. If you'll excuse me, it seems the underling in charge of keeping this room properly stocked with supplies has failed miserably. I'll be back once I've throttled him and brought some more in." Without waiting for a response, he left the room.

"What the hell was _that _all about?" Dynamo muttered aloud, before shrugging. "Ah, well. Not like it matters." Despite his usual nonchalance, though, something about what Doppler had said was sticking in his mind.

"_His first act, believe it or not, was to offer a universal pardon to all uninfected Mavericks who would be willing to join their side._"

"Shit," Dynamo muttered, as a stab of pain shot through his brain, along with the doctor's words echoing in his memories. Sitting up, he clutched his forehead, vision swimming now as the pain increased. "What the _hell_..."

"_You know, there's a way to beat it. Internal self-deletion. It's a bitch, but it's possible, even without a silver bullet from Mecha._"

"Zero?" He gasped through the pain, fingers tightening around his own skull as the Crimson Hunter's words followed Doppler's. "What... what _is _this?"

The Maverick Virus answered him.

**Destroy,** it ordered him, darkness covering the room around him, pouring in to swallow up everything he saw and leave him alone in the void of nothingness. **Infect,** it demanded, as the black emptiness began to move and twitch and throb and writhe hideously, nothing clearly visible yet even more horrible for that. **Survive,** it roared in fury, as screaming skulls and lashing cables and empty eyes all surrounded him, covering him, incorporating him into their mass as part of the whole. He was helpless before it, as he always had, as he always would be.

And then he heard another voice, another memory. His own.

"_What can I say? I value my independence. I don't really do the whole 'team spirit' thing. I work better alone, you know? I never would have taken the job otherwise, no matter how much you paid me. Not because of _morals_ or anything stupid like that, but I kind of like my brain the way it is. Never been too keen on messing with the formula._"

His eyes shot open, bright and blazing. And he stared into the darkness, and whispered a single word.

"No."

It hurt. More than any agony he had ever known in his life, it _hurt_. Worse than when he'd first been infected, worse than any punishment it had ever inflicted upon him before, agony coursed through his entire body, through his blood and bones and brain. And yet, still he resisted, still he stood against it, still he stared back into the darkness. With every ounce of his willpower, with the blazing streak of independence that had been part of him from the moment he'd first opened his eyes on the assembly line so many years ago, he closed his ears and mind and soul to its voice and its will.

And when it faltered, for only a moment, an instant of hesitation at his defiance, he struck. Inside his mind, trapped in a hallucination created by the conflict within his consciousness, he threw something from his gauntlet out into the darkness. Not a plasma bomb, but something like it, something created from everything he was and everything he had ever been, a blazing sphere of blinding bright willpower.

As it detonated, and the Maverick Virus screamed in hatred and fury, its hold upon him fell apart along with the hallucination, and he was back in the medical bay.

He was _back. _He was _himself_ again.

And then he was gone, warping away from the harbor the same way he had come, one short jump at a time, his thoughts burning with a new fury all his own.

**February 2, 2187, 5:00 AM **

**Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Japan **

"It is done, Lord Sigma," the flunky kneeling before him said solemnly. "The MHHQ is ours. Welcome home."

He stood before the hollow shell of the building he had once called home, and realized he had no idea what to feel at all. Elation? Perhaps, but after how long he'd labored for this day, how much he'd changed over the decades and then changed again so recently, somehow he couldn't quite manage it. Satisfaction? Undeserved; perhaps if they had taken it themselves, but as it was, the victory was truly owed to the hand of another, rather than his. Regret? Ridiculous. He'd left regret behind, even when he'd remembered what it felt like, and committed himself entirely.

They had won, not only here but throughout the entire city, after nearly a century of conflict. The promise he had made to the world so many years ago, when he and the 1st Unit had conquered the entire city for only a few short weeks, had finally been fulfilled. At long last, the fortress of his greatest enemies was abandoned and empty, ready to be torn down along with the rest of the city he had no more use for. And yet, for some reason he didn't understand, he found himself not wanting to give the order to do so just yet.

"It's been a long time," Mab murmured, her own voice oddly subdued, as she looked up at the ruined building's upper floors, her insubstantial form hovering just behind him. More and more, she was materializing the image of a physical form, albeit one that only he could see and hear; even when she realized she was doing it, half the time she didn't bother to discorporate any more. Now was not the time to ponder the implications of that, though. Not when she would likely hear his thoughts, and grow irritated at best, and suspicious at worst.

"Indeed it has," Sigma agreed instead, focusing on the MHHQ. It had been a long time indeed since he had walked its halls, before infection had slowly claimed him, resulting in the massacre that had kickstarted the First Maverick Uprising. "A very long time indeed." He glanced at her. "I'm surprised you remember it."

"I remember _everything_, Sigma," she reminded him, empty black eyes still locked on the building. "Everything you have ever seen, and everybody else who has felt my embrace. You and your 1st Unit are not the only Infected to set foot inside these halls. But even so... it has still been a long time."

"My lord?" the kneeling Maverick asked, confused. "What would you have us do? Should we start the demolition?"

"Not just yet," Sigma told him, walking forward as he finally placed the emotion currently running through him. "I find myself oddly... nostalgic. Wait until I give the word."

"As you command, my lord," the Maverick replied, not moving from behind him as he continued through the shattered doors into the lobby, and from there into the halls, Mab continuing to hover over his shoulder with every step.

"There," she said, pointing at a side room as they passed with one skeletal figure, blackened and charred. "That's where it started. Where you infected the 1st Unit. Do you remember?"

"I do," Sigma replied, nodding. "And over there... the war room." He glanced inside, and shook his head as he saw the condition it was in, main projector smashed and desk terminals ruined. "A pity. I wanted to see what they'd done with the place."

"I prefer what _we _did to it," Mab said slyly, and he chuckled, turning away and continuing down the halls. They visited the garage, the medical bay, the mess hall and the barracks each in turn, memories of times both before and after infection returning to him every time. Exchanging commentary and banter with Mab, he continued exploring the ruined wreckage of the first home he had ever known, until they reached the training rooms.

"What's this?" He murmured as his eyes fell upon a plaque above the doors leading to the wing containing them. After a moment, they widened as he realized just whose words were engraved upon it. His own, with his name after them.

"The more we train our troops, the less we have to fear the results of battle," Mab read, floating up to it and sneering. "Tripe."

"That wasn't..." Sigma started to say, before frowning. "Was that what I said? I don't remember. I don't _think _that was the way I put it. Not exactly."

"Do you want me to tell you?" She asked sweetly, looking over her shoulder.

"Unnecessary," he grunted; he knew better than to fall for _that_. "It is no longer relevant."

"You're no fun at all," she pouted mockingly, following him as he turned away to continue his exploration of the MHHQ. Soon, there was only one place left for them to see. The Commander's office, that had been his so long ago, before passing to Dr. Cain and then to Signas following his infection and treason.

"They kept the lighting," he murmured as he walked inside. "Good. I always liked the lighting." His eyes fell upon something even more familiar than that on one side of the room, and he frowned; while nothing was sacred to him, no lines remaining that he hadn't crossed, he still felt himself sneering in contempt as he saw the curved shell of his old friend Armored Armadillo, filled with water. "Really, Cain? Really? Petty. And Signas kept it up?" He shook his head slowly.

"I don't think pettiness was quite what they had in mind," Mab told him, sounding amused as she drifted over to the bowl, and the tiny goldfish swimming placidly inside, unaware and unconcerned with what had happened. Apparently, the rampaging Mavericks and Faithful had overlooked it. Something in the tiny fish's vacant mind apparently managed to perceive her, against all logic; meeting her eyes, it remained motionless for a moment before turning and swimming as far away from her as its home would allow. "Cute."

"A goldfish?" Sigma replied, blinking. "The more I learn about you, my dear Mab, the more I realize I will never truly understand your mind, or that of any woman."

"I wasn't referring to the goldfish," she explained, ignoring the implications of what he'd said, and that more than anything put him on guard. "I meant its name. Look, it's engraved on the shell."

"Considering their lifespan, there should be a number after the name," he commented as he walked over. "Or at least some roman numerals."

"Funny you should say that," she purred, as he saw the name. _Sigma II. _

"Hilarious," he replied after a moment of surprise, turning away abruptly and deliberately suppressing any and all emotion before he could even identify it. He didn't _want _to react to that name, or the intent behind it, positively or negatively, for many reasons. Transferring his gaze to the desk, he walked over to it; unlike the fishbowl, it had been wrecked by his hordes, smashed and shattered. "_This_, I remember. I wonder if it still has the same secret compartment?"

"Why did you even have that put in?" Mab asked, rolling her empty eyes as she followed him over to it, her interest in the fishbowl waning as quickly as it had grown. "It wasn't like you even had anything to keep in there."

"There was always the possibility that one day I would," Sigma explained, opening it and smiling as he saw a holocube inside. "And it seems others made use of it. I wonder, did this belong to Signas or Cain?" Picking it up, he activated the projector on top, answering his question immediately. "Ah."

"I have no idea who this is," Mab said flatly after a silent moment of contemplating the woman whose memory had been enshrined within the tiny projection.

"Cain's wife," he told her, deactivating it. "That explains who this belonged to." One by one, he tried the four sides, and was unsurprised to see X, Cancer, and Zero each in turn. Only when he tried the last, and found it deactivated, did he frown. "Interesting."

"How, exactly?" She asked, unimpressed. "It's empty. That's not interesting at all. Just the opposite, in fact."

"Not quite." Turning it upside down, he opened the underside of it, and began fiddling with the wiring. "It's deactivated, not vacant."

"What's the difference?" She demanded.

"The difference is, it had to be deliberate," he muttered idly, concentrating on reconnecting the wiring inside the device. "And that means there's still probably an image stored there. One he didn't want to look at, but couldn't bring himself to replace. And _that _arouses my curiosity. I wonder what it could be." A moment later, he grunted in satisfaction as he finished his work, replacing the bottom of the cube and turning it back up. "There. Now let's see what-"

As the fourth side activated, and he saw the image it contained, he fell silent instantly, eyes wide.

"Well, well," Mab murmured, looking over his shoulder at the image of himself on the day the Maverick Hunters had been founded, standing proud with the other members of the 1st Unit in their red cloaks. "You were right. This _is _interesting."

"What is this?" Sigma whispered, uncomprehending. "Why would he keep this?"

"Oh, this is rich." Mab laughed scornfully. "You don't even know?"

"How could I?" He demanded, dozens of conflicting emotions raging uncontrolled through his mind. "This is ridiculous. It's insane. What possible reason could he have for not removing it, after all those years? After what I did? After what I became?"

"Because Cain was weak," she told him, skeletal grin mocking as she caressed his arm in a warped parody of affection. "Because he was human. Emotional. Sentimental. Because no matter how he tried, he could never forget what you have."

"And what is it, then, that I have forgotten?" He asked, knowing he would regret doing so but unable to stop himself.

"That you are his _son_," she whispered in his ear, his mind, his soul. "Just as X is the son of Light, and Zero is the son of Wily, despite his adoption of both as his own... no matter what you do, or what you become, _you_ will always be the son of Cain."

"No," he said, quietly at first, then louder. "_No_. I abandoned that, and everything it meant, on the day I left the Hunters. I watched Sting cripple him for life. I _killed _Cancer, my own _brother_, with my own blade. They are _nothing _to me now."

"Are they?" She asked, her voice radiating innocent confusion. "Or are you lying to yourself, even now? If you cared nothing for Cain, then why didn't you _kill_ him? You saw that friend of his save his life, but you didn't remedy that. You left him there, the only survivor except for Hazil... who probably saved him again, afterward. At his age, would he have lived if he hadn't had a doctor on site? And Cancer... yes, you killed him. Why? Why not _infect _him? Or maybe... maybe subconsciously, you knew that that was the only alternative to my embrace? The only way you could _spare_ him from me?"

"You're _lying!_" He roared, whirling on her, his mind in turmoil. "None of this happened!"

"Are you _sure_?" She taunted him, drawing closer to him, raising a hand to his cheek. "You're not, are you? You don't remember it clearly, after all this time. Not as I do. _I _remember. Shall I tell you?"

"Why?" He demanded, his voice both quiet and harsh now. "Why are you doing this?"

"To return a favor," she told him, moving forward and wrapping her insubstantial arms around him. "Because _you _have done this to _me _so often. Because you _helped _me with my emotions. I only wish to help you with yours. Do you want to know? Do you really?"

He tried to respond, but couldn't.

"Heh." Her embrace tightened, as her lipless mouth drew knew his ear. "I'm just screwing with you. You didn't give a damn about either of them."

A moment passed. And then, with a feral scream, Sigma threw the holocube at the fishtank, smashing it and knocking the shell over. Spilling out along with the water, the goldfish flopped miserably on the floor, until he put it out of its misery with one massive boot. Only then did he call his Mavericks, speaking to every one of the horde within Tokyo.

"Proceed with the demolitions," he said, voice cold and empty of all emotion as he walked away without looking back at her. "Destroy this place. The past is dead. It was all just a dream."

He didn't look back. But he felt her gaze, and her smile, all the same.

**February 2, 2187, 6:00 AM **

**Mecha**

He'd been given rooms; declining quarters in the Kingdome, he'd chosen one of District 1's dormitories, following Zero's example. It was sufficient for his needs, but he'd barely even glanced around before heading out to the balcony, overlooking the hidden city of the Robot Masters he'd discovered two years and a lifetime ago. There he'd remained, until the Crimson Hunter jumped down from the roof of the building to join him.

"Hey," he said quietly, leaning on the rail.

"Hey," X replied in the same tone, not looking over. They stood there for some time, until eventually, Zero spoke again.

"They... we... think the last of the survivors are here," he said, sounding slightly awkward. "There haven't been any more for an hour now."

"Ah," X replied noncommittally, remaining silent for several moments. "Signas?"

"No sign of him." Zero shook his head slowly. "Sorry, X. But if he's not here by now..." He let it hang.

"He didn't make it," X finished for him, closing his eyes for a few seconds. "Neither did Lifesaver. He admitted it, you know. At the end."

"That one went past me a little fast," Zero told him. "Admitted what?"

"That he was wrong about you," he explained. "That he shouldn't have done what he did, back when Eurasia fell."

"Huh." Zero fell silent, and now at last X turned to look at him; the Crimson Hunter was smiling, but something about it made it clear it wasn't from any sort of positive emotion. "Not sure he was."

"He was," X told him firmly. "He was sure of it. And so am I."

"Thanks," Zero said after a moment. "I need to hear that, sometimes. That there are still people who believe that." He continued to gaze out over the city, watching as the Robot Masters who'd lived there for decades helped to accommodate the human and reploid refugees who'd come to them at last when there was nowhere else to run. "We don't really talk about that kind of stuff as much as we used to, these days. Not any more."

"We don't need to," X replied. "We both know. We don't even to have to say it, at this point. We understand."

"Can't argue that one." He chuckled. "We've been through a lot, haven't we? You and me. Hard to believe it's almost over, for good, one way or another. That this time it really is going to end."

"It has to," X said solemnly. "It _has _to end, this time. If it doesn't... well." He sighed. "You know what will happen if it doesn't."

"Yeah, I do," Zero agreed. "We both know. Better than almost anybody else." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, and that more than anything else told X that there was something on his mind, something he wasn't saying, even though he wanted to. "That's... kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. I think I might have a way to kill the Virus. For good."

"I was wondering about that," X said, still watching him carefully, trying to figure out just what it was he wasn't saying. "I'm assuming there's a catch."

"There is." Zero looked back at him, and as their eyes met, the light dawned. "I'd have to go down with it."

"We've still got time," X said after a moment. "It might not come to that."

"God, I hope so," the Crimson Hunter admitted fervently. "It's not like I _want _to die, X. I don't. I really, really don't. But if nobody figures anything else out... if that's the only way..."

"Dammit, Zero," X whispered, breaking their gaze and turning away to stare out over the city again. Zero didn't press him, and the silence stretched between them as he remembered everything-everybody-he'd already lost. Eventually, he spoke again, barely audible. "Do what you have to, Zero. I'll trust you to know what that comes down to. I always did, and I always will."

"Thanks, X." Zero murmured, so quietly that he almost didn't hear him. "And I'm sorry." Neither of them said anything more after that. They just stood there, watching, until eventually X's helmet communicator beeped.

"_Sir_," Arvis told him. "_They need you_."

"All right," X replied, not bothering to ask who 'they' were, or what they needed him for; he already knew.

"The Hunters?" Zero asked, and he nodded silently. "All right. Go on. I'll see you around."

"See you," X repeated, before hopping over the balcony and dropping several stories. Landing effortlessly on his feet, he walked to the Kingdome, and once inside, made his way to the meeting room King had given the Hunters as soon as they'd come.

"Hey, X," Auto greeted him as he walked in; as always, he was the only one present who wasn't a Unit Captain, or a staff member of similar rank. Donia was there, standing in for Alia, and Douglas and Lifesaver had both been replaced as well, only Simon remaining. Most of the Captains from before the war were gone as well, only ten of the original thirty aside from X himself still present; fifteen of those were realtime holograms, still stationed in the five other city-states around the world.

"Arvis said you needed me?" He asked, taking his seat.

"We do." Lassiter confirmed. "Though we have yet to confirm it, in the absence of his arrival, we must assume that Commander Signas was killed in action during the retreat. In this time of war, despite our wishes, a successor must be appointed immediately."

"All right," X conceded. "I thought that might be it. Good thing we passed a procedure for that, after the GDC fell." On the last occasion which the Hunters had needed a new Commanding Officer, the Global Defense Council had been responsible for the selection; following the fall of that institution, the Hunters had prepared for the possibility of another time, deciding to make it an anonymous vote among the top brass. "Auto, you mind doing the counting?"

"X," Simon said quietly, before Auto could reply. "You haven't checked your mail in a couple days, have you?"

"What?" X frowned, surprised. "No, I haven't. Why-" In midsentence, he suddenly realized that everybody in the room had been watching him ever since he'd come in, and the synthblood drained from his face. When he spoke again, it was a whisper, devoid of all emotion. "No."

"Shortly before we were attacked, the world leaders insisted that Commander Signas choose his successor in the event of his death," Lassiter explained. "He sent out an e-mail to all of us, informing us of his choice."

"No," X repeated slowly. "That's invalid. It's not according to procedure, and they're..." He trailed off, taking in the looks on their faces, realizing what would happen even if they voted. Who they would vote for, every one of them. Bowing his head, he held it in his hands, as he remembered all the times he'd dreamed of the day when he would never have to fight again, when he could leave the Hunters behind at last. Eventually, he managed to speak. "My friends... my comrades... I beg of you. Please... don't make me do this."

"I'm sorry, X," Simon told him gently. "We all are. More sorry than words can convey. But if you don't... who will?"

"You could do it, Lassiter," X argued, raising his head and staring at him. "You're Captain of the 00 Unit. Or you, Ganesheriff. Or..." He trailed off, as they all continued to watch him without a word, as his arguments faded away into the silence. Finally, he turned to Auto, his big brother, who met his eyes solemnly. "There's another way. There has to be. There's got to be somebody else who can do this."

"Take some time, X," Simon suggested. "Think about it. We'll wait."

X didn't bother replying. He simply stood and left without so much as looking at them again. As he did, he heard Auto standing to follow him, but didn't look back. Once out in the hall, he found a corner and sat down in it, crossing his arms across his knees and lowering his head onto them, not looking up when Auto sat next to him.

"I'm sorry, kid," the Robot Master said eventually. "I never wanted this to happen. Nobody did."

"Almost nobody," X whispered bitterly, remembering past conversations with another survivor of the past in a new light. After a moment, he raised his head and looked at him. "Did anything like this ever happen to Rock?"

"All the time," Auto said quietly. "Every time a new Rebellion broke out. Nobody ever made him do it. He had to make that call himself." He was staring forward, as if watching something, rather than seeing the empty hall of the Kingdome around them. "The worst was before my time. Back after the Third. When they thought Wily was dead. That was the last time he ever really believed it was over, that it was done. For six months, he figured it was over. That he could go back to being who he was before, again. Just another kid, with a brother and a sister and a father."

"And then the Fourth broke out," X finished for him, already familiar with the tragic story of his family. "And he had to go back, and do it again. No matter how much he didn't want to. For the world, and everybody who lived on it."

"Yeah," Auto agreed. "He did. And he never recovered. Ever again. By the time I came around, that part of him was already gone. I never knew what he was like, before."

"I'm sorry," X said softly, understanding more than ever before just how much his brother had gone through, why he was so different now from what everybody had said he'd been like in the past. After a moment, he spoke again. "Auto... what should I do?"

"I wish I could tell you, bro," Auto replied, looking at him now. "But I can't. If you think about it, you'll know why."

"Yeah," X conceded, standing again. "I do."

"But hey," Auto said as he started to walk away, and he looked over his shoulder to see his brother stand as well. "Whatever you decide... whatever you do... I'm behind you, X. All the way. Always." A moment passed, and then they embraced, without another word. Eventually, he let him go, and walked away, footsteps echoing through the empty halls. It wasn't long before he arrived at his destination.

"Hey, X," Hazil said, looking up from the unconscious form of Dive Man, who'd been severely wounded during the battle of Tokyo. More casualties covered every available surface of the room, one of many given to the combined medics of both the Hunters and Mecha for storing the wounded until they could be seen to. Taking one look at his face, the gray-haired doctor jerked a thumb to his right. "She's over there."

"Thanks." Nodding, X walked over where he'd indicated, to where Alia lay on a table, her hands clasped over the terrible wound in her chest that had nearly claimed her life. She'd gone into auto-stasis with not a second to spare, and he'd carried her body all the way out of Tokyo and across the wasteland to Mecha without a care for his own chances. She would live, but it would be some time before she was back on her feet; despite his feelings on the matter, he knew he couldn't make them push her ahead of everybody else who'd come in first.

"We made it, Alia," he said softly, putting a hand on her unfeeling shoulder. "We're still alive. Some of us, anyways." He stood there in silence for some time before continuing. "I know I should save this for when you're awake. I probably will say this all again, when you are. But right now... I need to tell somebody about this. And you're the only one who knows." He took a deep breath. "It looks like I'm the one who's going to break a promise. Not the one we never should have made in the first place. The other one. About leaving, and living together, once all this is over. I don't think I'll be able to."

She was silent and still, her face unmoving, but somehow, he could almost believe she was hearing him all the same. Almost.

"I'm scared, Alia," he continued, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see that any more. "More scared than I've ever been in my life. I want to say this was the only thing I hoped would never happen, but that wouldn't be true. The truth is... this is what I never let myself _believe_ would happen. Because I was too afraid of the possibility to admit it. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you stay with me. Without you, I don't think I can. You're my only hope of doing this. Even if it destroys us both."

No response came, and eventually, he opened his eyes and walked away. Nobody spoke to him, or stopped him, as he left the room and then the Kingdome. He'd talked to everybody he cared to at the moment, and now, he needed the opposite. Despite the havoc in the streets of Mecha as the citizens struggled to accommodate the refugees, nobody stood in his way or interfered with his walk. Soon, he was at the elevator, still the only real entrance or exit to the hidden city. Taking it up, he sat on the highest hill of the sacred plains, and gazed out over the wasteland beyond the walls, watching the wild winds and shifting sands that now covered nearly all of the planet that had once been so full of life.

He had no idea how long it was before he noticed a single figure approaching slowly, growing ever-so-slightly more visible as it came nearer, one sluggish step at a time. One last refugee, trailing behind all the rest. Getting up, he warped over to the gates, only to stare in surprise as he realized who it was.

"Signas!" He shouted, running towards him.

"X," the Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters murmured weakly, continuing forward. "You live. Thank god."

"That's my line!" X told him, bracing him. "Easy. Don't strain your... self..." He trailed off as he saw the hideous wounds his Commander bore, and as he realized the implications, a horrible, selfish hope he hadn't even been aware of died as quickly as it had arisen.

"I am afraid that is irrelevant," Signas whispered, falling to his knees, one hand still holding the deactivated hilt of his beam foil. "I passed the point of no return before I even left the city. I do not live, X. Not for long."

"No," X whispered, still holding him up despite his shock. "Dammit, Signas. Why did you do that?"

"I would have died regardless, X," he explained, every word sounding pained. "Had I gone into auto-stasis, with the wretch who did this standing over me, alone with the enemy all around... my only choice was between then and later. To be honest, I'm surprised I made it this far. So close... and yet so far." He turned his head to meet X's eyes. "Help me. Please."

"I will," X agreed solemnly, and neither of them spoke again as they continued to the elevator. Once inside, Signas slumped against a wall until they had arrived at the bottom, and X helped him out, to sit on the rise overlooking the hidden city side by side.

"You know," Signas said eventually.

"Yeah." X nodded, not needing to ask for clarification. Fighting the temptation to react with anger, to feel betrayed, he kept his voice level as he spoke again. "Why, Signas? Why me? What can I do that nobody else can?"

"You can give the people hope," Signas explained, his voice ragged. "Those who have lost everything, who have only come here because there was nowhere else to go. They don't know Lassiter, or Simon, or any of the others... but they know you, X. If you tell them there is hope... if you tell them you will save them... they will believe."

"That's what it always come down to, doesn't it?" He asked bitterly. "In the end. The needs of the people."

"Always," Signas agreed. "Every time. I'm sorry, X. I wish there was another way."

"People keep saying that, today," X told him after a moment. "That they're sorry. Even me. But no matter how sorry any of us are, it doesn't change anything, does it?"

"No." Signas conceded. "It doesn't. We chose our paths long ago. The only choice which remains to us now... is whether we will stay true to that, or turn away."

"That isn't a choice at all," X said, clenching his fist and forcing himself not to look at the dying man who he'd pledged his loyalty to. Who he was still loyal to, even now, even when the cost was higher than he'd ever wanted or believed it to be.

"There is always a choice, X," Signas said wearily. "I can only pray that you make better choices than I did."

"Don't say that," X told him after a moment, despite what he felt. "You made the best choices you could, under the circumstances."

"If only," the Commander said, his eyes growing dim. "In truth, X... this may, in fact, be what I deserve, for what I have done. For the lies I have told, and the sins I have committed, in this war."

"What do you..." X started to ask, before trailing off, as he realized what he meant. As he saw the city before him, crowded with refugees, with humans and Robot Masters and reploids... the first far outnumbering the other two, five to every one, wherever he looked.

"I told you, and others, that no priority was to be placed on evacuating humans before reploids," Signas whispered, confirming what he saw. "But some received... different orders. Those who would understand. Who would agree, and accept. More reploids can be built, but should the human population fall beneath a certain level of genetic diversity... they would be doomed, eventually. Forgive me, X. I betrayed our people. I betrayed the reploids. Do not repeat my mistakes. You must be a better leader... a better ruler... than I ever was."

"And that makes it okay?" X asked, his rage building to the point where he could no longer hide it, as he turned to glare at his Commander. "You just say you were wrong, and leave it to _me _to clean up after you? How the hell do you justify that?"

"I do not," Signas replied solemnly, meeting his eyes. "Any more than you could justify defying orders, during the battle of London. I told you then that once this war was over, you would have to answer for that decision... just as I intended to pay for my own sins." He chuckled bitterly, blood spilling from his mouth. "It seems fate has a sense of humor. One even more twisted than Wily's."

"I..." X started to say, before stopping, unable to find the words. "You..." Again he was unable to continue, and eventually, he turned his eyes away. "Is that it, then? Is that all there is? For any of us?"

"For me, perhaps," Signas acknowledged. "My time ends here. But you... no. So long as you live, perhaps some day, there will be something more. I only wish there was more that I could give you, that I could do for you, to make up for this sword of mine that I ask you to take up. But I cannot. All I can do is ask one final thing of you. Take it. My sword, and everything it represents... and do what I failed to."

"Is that why you made it this far?" X asked eventually. "To bring me that?"

"I wanted to see it," Signas explained after a moment. "Just once, before I died... I wished to see this place. This impossibility which defies everything I believed, for the better rather than the worse."

"It's really something, isn't it?" X asked softly, watching the city.

"Indeed it is," Signas agreed, his voice fading. "Tell me, X. Is your father's dream possible? Can humans and robots every truly live in peace?"

"It is," X told him solemnly, the last of his denial fading away, as he accepted his fate. "They can. They will. I'll _make _my father's dream possible, Signas. I promise."

He never knew if Signas heard him, before he died. Eventually, he stood, and walked over to close his friend's eyes, and take the sword from his hand, as he had been told to. Only then did he realize that the elevator was moving again, that it had been moving for some time, had gone back up and was now descending once more.

"Who..." he started to ask as the lift arrived, and the doors opened, and his eyes widened as his question was answered. "_You!_"

"Easy, X," Dynamo told him, hands raised above his head. "I'm not here to fight."

"Bull," X snarled, raising his buster, though he didn't fire. "What else _could _you be here for?"

"Heard something interesting, on the news, the other day," he replied, and though he was smirking as cockily as ever, his eyes held no trace of humor. "Something about a job offer. Is that one still good?"


	17. Chapter 15: LAW II

_**Chapter 15: LAW II **_

_Maverick (4): a reploid who has turned against humanity, or who has committed violence against one or more humans, whether due to infection by the Maverick Virus, or of their own free will. _

**Duo's Log 099 **

**36573 Earth Days since departure**

For the first time since I have left Earth, I have found myself at a loss for words.

I have not logged my progress since my arrival on my abandoned homeworld, wishing to wait until my studies had borne fruit before chronicling my progress once more, so that I would have something concrete to show for my efforts. Several years have passed since then, and each time, my determination to wait until I had found my answers only increased. I knew that eventually I would succeed in my quest, but that was all; I could not percieve any more detail than that, despite my increased proficiency in seeing through time.

In all honesty, I have not gazed into the future for more than a year now, due to something which I saw that disturbed me greatly, something I have never encountered using that sight before. There is now a point in time beyond which I can no longer see any action of mine, any sign of my continued existence. A moment in the future where my presence in this universe ends, when my personal timeline ceases. Though I do not know why this is, or how it will come to pass, all of the possibilities I have considered are disturbing, and I have avoided thinking about them.

Some would consider this cowardice, or defeatism, but I am of an alternate point of view. Whatever it is that will befall me soon, nothing I can do will change or avert it, and thus, there is no point in accumulating undue stress and worry by brooding upon the inevitable. There were other matters to occupy my time and attention, ones of greater importance as well as interest, and so I turned to them instead, and spared no more thoughts for the inevitability I saw. I have always been pragmatic, in that regard.

Despite its emptiness, my world-for I have already began to think of it as such-fascinated me in many ways, and I have had no shortage of subjects to turn my attention to, in many various fields. At any time, were I to grow bored with one particular field of study, there were a dozen others to choose from, while shelving my previous work to be returned to at a later date. With the obvious exception of biology, I was able to put my knowledge of natural sciences to good use, and have learned much about the planet itself, which has only increased my fondness for it.

Of course, my favorite topics of interest were those related to my people, our enemies, and the ruins of their civilizations. It was not long before I was able to confirm through means other than my unique senses that the city located at the south pole was inhabited by my people, and that of the north by the evil ones. I could only assume that the proximity of the two was intentional, that they were deliberately built as far away from each other as possible, perhaps by mutual agreement in order to minimize conflict, or perhaps for other reasons.

I am aware of how ridiculous a concept that sounds, when applied to our enemies, considering their terrifying hatred for all life other than their own, but I considered it important to maintain an open mind and avoid ruling out conclusions before they were proven to be false. Despite my knowledge of their nature, I considered it possible that their malignancy stemmed from an incident in our shared history, and was not natural to their kind. To my knowledge, no species is created evil, and I saw no reason to assume them to be an exception based solely on personal enmity.

Regardless, I was not particularly surprised when my dating of the offensive uses of both energy types-the blue and the purple-showed that the enemy were the aggressors in the conflict which existed even before our departure from this world and loss of memory. Though signs of our power being used offensively date back centuries as well, those of theirs predate them, implying that my kind fought only in self-defense, a theory which I was later able to confirm.

These conflicts persisted for nearly the entirety of our time on the planet, also unsurprisingly, until the date at which we left. At first, I was unable to ascertain the reason for our departure, until I noticed something odd. What I had originally considered to be nothing more than a lack of biological life was in fact indicative of something more, something representative of the world itself rather than those who lived-or did not-upon it. Something that had resulted from our occupation of it, and of the conflict that arose between us.

I am well aware of how ridiculous human science would find the idea of a planet possessing a life or a soul of its own, but I am not human, and have no such preconceptions. It is a different form of being than any biological or mechanical life, to be certain, but as I later discovered, that is hardly an argument against it. The more I learned, the more certain I became. Planets live, and our planet was among them. Until it died. No. Until we _killed_ it, as a result of our war, and thus prevented any other life from ever developing upon it.

It was this that drove us into the stars, and caused us to erase our memories. This much, I know for a fact, though I have only learned it recently. When we learned of our planet's demise, it led to the only accommodation between my kind and our enemies of our entire history. Our leaders met with those of the evil ones, and together, we agreed upon our course of action. Our home was abandoned, and we were launched into the universe at random, our minds wiped. I suspect the enemy may have lied and retained theirs, but of course, it is impossible to be certain now that they are extinct.

For those desiring a more tangible explanation for our exodus, rest assured that the death of the planet's spirit was not simply a metaphysical phenomenon. Once I suspected it, I investigated the planet's core, and was dismayed to discover that it is dangerously close to instability. While there is no present danger, any further damage will almost certainly tip the balance. With that in mind, I have limited the use of my power to an absolute minimum, on the basis that safety is superior to sorrow.

Eventually, I was able to discover the reason for this unfortunate result. It seems that in ages past, both of our peoples utilized the planet itself as a means of amplifying our powers. This was the reason we chose this particular world to dwell upon, some unknown attribute it possessed making it ideal for our purposes. If my analysis seems lacking, please remember that I am the first being since our mass amnesia to even discover the existence of these matters, let alone to actually attempt study of them.

It was soon afterward that I discovered the key to my research, the 'holy grail' that I believed would explain everything. Written records of our history, hidden within a vault buried deep beneath the city, a legacy for any who would come and find it one day, and seek to learn of our people. The language was unfamiliar to me, of course, and even with my abilities, it took a great deal of time to learn and translate. Only once I believed myself fluent in it did I attempt to read the entirety of it, and even then, I was required to improve my comprehension of it further as I went along.

Now, at last, I know of my people's history. I know of our exodus, and of the reasons for it. I know of the war that was our way of life both before and after our loss of memory. And I know of how it began, when first we were created... or so I believed I would, when I reached the beginning of the records. At last, I would learn who it was who created us, and why.

I was wrong.

We were not created by other life. We were not native to this planet. We were not native to _any _planet. The log speaks of traveling here from another place, a place described as, 'beyond the light.' It speaks of both our peoples fleeing that place for some reason it does not mention, and coming here. And it speaks of creating our own bodies, of realizing that our destination required physical forms we did not possess before coming here. We created _ourselves_. We existed before we _possessed_ bodies, and retained our consciousnesses after doing so.

I have found no answers. And my question, the question I have sought to rectify all my life, only causes me greater strife than ever before.

_What am I?_

**February 6, 2187, Noon **

**Mecha**

"Hope you don't mind my saying so, sir, but I still think we should have blown his goddamn head off as soon as he showed up here," Arvis told his Captain-no, his _Commander_ now-as they walked through the halls of the Kingdome; the Robot Master named Snake was there as well. "We can't trust that bastard any further than we can throw him."

"I'm not arguing that, Arvis," X said, and Arvis could hear the exhaustion in his voice, more than ever before. It might not have been any of his business how much stasis his Commander had been getting over the last few days, ever since they'd lost Tokyo and the MHHQ with it, but it wasn't easy to fight the temptation to call him on it, all the same. "I don't trust him either. And I'm not going to, no matter how this goes."

"Then why are we doing this?" Snake asked lightly, his accent similar to Arvis' own; one day, he mused, he'd have to ask him about that. For some reason, King had asked that he be present, rather than one of the reploids of Mecha, for where they were going. "I understand that you want to respect Commander Signas' memory by honoring his word, but surely that's not the only reason."

"I wish." X sighed. "If it was, maybe this would be easier. Even then, though, I'm not sure I'd go through with it. Signas might be dead, but a deal's a deal, all the same. He made the offer. It's my responsibility to follow through on it. And we've had him scanned a dozen times. He came up negative on every one. Somehow, that lunatic actually managed to perform internal self-deletion. _If _he's playing straight with us, we owe him a chance."

"That's still a pretty big 'if,' sir," Arvis argued. "First off, last I heard, half the time the deletion's incomplete. Fifty-fifty chance the Virus is still dormant. Could wake back up and make another play for him at any time. Second, even if it ain't, he's still a crazy murdering bastard. I know a viper when I see one, and trust me, sir, that one's as poisonous as they come. Uh. No offense, Snake."

"None taken," the Robot Master assured him.

"I know," X said as they approached their destination, a door with two guards flanking it, both Robot Masters. "But the fact of the matter is, we _need _what he knows. And one of the things he knows is that we do. That's why he took the risk of coming to us." He glanced at the guards. "How's he been doing?"

"_Singing_, the last time we checked up on him," one of the guards, a burly Hard Man, grunted.

"Badly," the other, an Elec Man, added with a wry face.

"Sounds about right," X muttered. "We're going to talk to him. Stay sharp." They both nodded as he went through the door, Arvis and Snake behind him.

"-_arigato, mister roboto!_" the prisoner screeched as the door opened, his voice raucous enough to make Arvis glad the room was soundproofed. He was laying on an inclined surface, bound at wrists and ankles, neck and waist with metal restraints. Despite that, he showed no signs of discomfort, his grin as viciously mocking as it had been when they'd first met, at the beginning of the war. "Oh, hey, X! How's it going?"

"Dynamo," the Commander replied neutrally. "It's been a few days, so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

"Well, I gotta be honest with you," the Maverick-Infected or not, that was still what he was-shot back. "The accommodations definitely need work. I get that with all the refugees and all, it's slow going setting everybody up with a place to stay, but if this is the best you can do, I think I might prefer sleeping out in a dumpster. It's not as bad as you'd think as long as you shower afterward. Do they have dumpsters here? I didn't see."

"Refugees that _you _helped drive out," Arvis growled, crossing his arms. "From a city you destroyed."

"Yep!" Dynamo admitted shamelessly. "Back when I was Infected. And now that I'm not, I'm offering to help _save _everybody who's still here. I'd take me up on it, if I were you."

"And do you believe that will make up for your crimes?" Snake asked levelly, his face blank. "Against humanity, reploidkind, and Robot Masters as well?"

"Nah." Dynamo shrugged, or at least attempted to. "That ain't my style, even _if_ I thought you'd buy it, which... I'm pretty sure you wouldn't. Atonement, schmatonement. All I'm asking for once the fighting's done is a head start out of here. Civilized life just wouldn't be me."

"I appreciate your honesty," X said dryly. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Commander Signas' offer was made in good faith. Which is why we're here. To give you a chance to convince us you're on the level. So go ahead. Convince us."

"Skipping right to the point, huh?" Dynamo said, sighing theatrically. "You're _still _no fun at all, X." A moment later, his eyes changed, growing sharper, more dangerous. "All right. You want me to tell you what you need to know? First things first. You figured you had got two, maybe three weeks before they come here and start the show. You don't. You've got one. Well, part of one, now."

"Bullshit!" Arvis snarled. "What, they're gonna break away from everywhere else before they finish them off? I don't _think _so."

"Of course they're not," Dynamo retorted. "They're leaving everything they have that can't _think_ behind. All their drones, and nearly their entire navy, along with just enough actual sentients to direct them. They'll still bring those walls down, with all the damage they've already done. Meanwhile, nine out of ten of their soldiers come here, led by all eight Maverick Generals _and _all eight Disciples. I've been down here for what, four days? You have three left. Count on it."

"Sigma isn't planning on showing himself?" X asked calmly. "Or Wily?"

"Of course not," the Maverick scoffed. "Wily's gone to ground at the Devil's Sea. That's your target. Maverick City is deserted. It's the Devil's Sea, and Sigma will be there with him, as his last line of defense, whether he wants to or not. I know the layout of the entire place. Eight rings, counting the inner sanctum. I can tell you everything to expect, and you'll need that. Wily's not planning on playing the game 'fair and square' this time. He intends to kill you before you even arrive, and if that doesn't work, he'll do everything he can to make sure you never make it to him."

"Who's going to be in charge of the attack, then, if neither of them are coming?" Arvis demanded.

"See, that was _supposed _to be _my _job," Dynamo explained. "Now that I've quit, though, it'll be either Doppler or Double for the Mavericks, and my money's on Doppler. Who the hell knows which one of the Disciples will come out on top. Those freaks are nuts, and this is _me _saying it."

"I'm surprised he's not keeping them back, as well," Snake said neutrally. "I believe there's a tradition about that."

"Heh." Dynamo chuckled once, short and sharp. "Well, I wasn't planning on them sticking around for the whole thing. You've opened up their brains and rummaged in there. You know what he'll do."

"I was wondering," X admitted, still calm. "All right. One more question, for now, then. Why should we trust you?"

"Because you _know _me, X," Dynamo told him, his voice growing tenser, losing its flippant tone. "You've known me long enough to have a good idea who I am. What's important to me. How I think." His eyes narrowed. "And that _asshole_ and the bitch in his head _I__nfected _me. They screwed with my _mind_. With my _soul_, if we even have them. Before, I'd have said we don't, but now, I'm not so sure any more. _Nobody _does that to me and lives. I want Sigma _dead_, X, and the Virus with him. And if we can nail that old bastard Wily in the process? _Bonus_. That's what I get out of this, X. And you know it."

X didn't bother replying. He just watched Dynamo carefully for a moment longer, before slowly nodding once, turning and leaving. Arvis followed him out, Snake beside him, and was able to resist the urge to glare over his shoulder as he went.

"Sir?" He asked once they were walking down the hallway.

"Assemble the top brass, Arvis," X said quietly, not looking at him. "Hunters and Mecha. It's time we finalized our battle plan."

**February 6, 2187, 1:00 PM **

**Mecha**

Lassiter had been a veteran of the Maverick Hunters for several decades, all of them as a member of the elite 00 Unit, composed entirely of the best beam saber specialists the organization had. He'd served loyally under Captain Zero Omega until his death immediately following the fall of Eurasia, and when he'd been chosen to succeed him in that position, he'd done his best to follow in his footsteps, though he'd known he would never be able to match him.

Now, he sat in a meeting room deep within Mecha, the hidden city of the Robot Masters-just one of the ridiculous impossibilities that had become reality-their closest allies, to whom his former Captain had pledged his loyalty. The other Captains were there as well, as were the high-ranking support staff, and so were sixteen reploids and nine Robot Masters from Mecha. The last two present were members of X's Unit, his number two, Arvis, and his enigmatic older brother Auto.

"How sure are you that his information is accurate?" King asked X; the new Commander of the Maverick Hunters had just finished reporting what they'd learned from the Maverick traitor, Dynamo. "You've known that one prior to his Infection. What are the chances that he's lying?"

"Minimal," X replied calmly; there was some unexplained tension in his eyes when he met those of the ruler of Mecha, but nobody knew just what it was, and none of them were willing to ask. "He's an asshole, but in certain respects, he's predictable. The story he told us checks out. His information makes sense, and the fact that it's bad only makes me more inclined to believe him. If he had nothing but _good_ news for us, _that _would make me suspicious."

"It pretty much ruins our hopes for the final battle," Lassiter chimed in; he still wasn't sure just where he stood with X now that the Captain of the 17th had accepted his unwanted position, but until told otherwise, he was going to assume it was the same as it had been for the last three decades, one old soldier to another. "We figured they'd want to save us for last. Drama and all that. Showmanship. Stupid, but it's the way they think."

"It is," Auto agreed. "But we forgot something else. Wily might be crazy enough to think of himself as a showman, but that's just the thing. All that _is_ just a show. It's an act. He puts in on to hide what he _really _is. A coward. No matter how many years pass, or what he becomes, that's what he'll always be. He's afraid of us." He looked at X. "He's afraid of _you_, little bro. He'll do anything to make sure you never actually get your hands on him. And his 'show' is just one more trap he's set for us. We almost fell for it, too." He shook his head in disgust.

"Auto is correct," King agreed. "He and I are the only two here who knew my father when he was human. Even then, the seeds of this eventuality were planted. He knows what will end this war. And he fears it more than he feared even Rock Light. That is his motivation, more than any facade he presents. That is what has guided his every action, and will continue to do so."

"All right," X said quietly. "Then we'd better plan for that ourselves." He turned around, to where a wall projector behind him showed a map of the Sacred Plains, above and around Mecha. "We have satellite coverage of the entire island of Japan, and unlike Tokyo, Mecha has no ocean access. We'll see them coming. And we've both been preparing a surprise for them when they arrive." He glanced at King. "I assume yours was completed years ago?"

"Correct," King agreed, inclining his head towards the androgynous Marquis; the war had taken the arrogance from his face, leaving him much more solemn, a change Lassiter approved of. "Marquis' paramount duty, above all others, was to prepare our city for this day. We are capable of withstanding the siege, and yes, that includes a secret weapon to be deployed at the right time."

"I call it the Labyrinth," Marquis explained, doing something with the controls to the projector set in the table before his seat along with the rest. As they watched, another image appeared over the first, and Lassiter jumped in surprise, along with most of the others present. "A maze of ten-foot walls composed of the strongest alloys known. It lies beneath the Sacred Plains, and can be raised at a moment's notice. Needless to say, the walls are filled with defensive weapons emplacements as well."

"Not bad," Javier, Captain of the 21st, grunted; his Unit had been recalled from the defense of Vladivostok, along with the 7th from New Korea, to replace the two that had been annihilated along with Tokyo. "But they'll bust through those walls before too long, no matter how strong they are."

"Correct," X murmured, staring at the projector with a strange light in his eyes. "However, if they have other concerns at the time, the effectiveness increases dramatically." He turned to Auto, who was equally transfixed by what he saw. "Such as our own secret weapon. Project Cronos. If we deploy them both at the same time..."

"Holy shit," Earl said, looking stunned. "We'll fucking _massacre _the assholes."

"No," Prince disagreed somberly. "Even with both of those, they still outnumber us by far too great an amount. These will slow them, dramatically. But they won't stop them." He met X's eyes calmly. "All it will do is buy us time. A great deal of time, yes, but that is not enough."

"No," X agreed. "It won't be. That's why we go on the offensive, as well as the defensive." He changed the projector's image to another location, this one much more obviously fortified, a massive military installation built around the coast of a far-off body of water. "There's only one way we're actually going to be able to win, and we all know what it is. Wily and Sigma. We kill them both, and with any luck, the rest of the enemy will collapse."

"With any luck," Lassiter repeated, keeping his tone neutral; he was objecting out of duty, rather than opinion, and he hoped X was still able to tell the difference. "Even accounting for the possibility of the Maverick Virus' death along with Sigma, and the Faithful losing the will to fight with the death of their 'God,' that's still a pretty risky gamble, sir. We don't _know _that's how it'll play out."

"We don't," Arvis spoke before X could. "But it's the best we're going to get. There's never any guarantees, when it comes to this sort of thing. It's time for the last round. Might as well go all in."

"Exactly." X nodded. "That being said, we need to leave as much of our forces here to defend the city as possible. We're not going to mount a direct military attack on the Devil's Sea. It's probable we wouldn't even get close, trying it that way. I'm going to lead a small strike force, and we're going to use every trick in the book-and a few that aren't even in it-to get onto Wily's front door. From that point on, well, we'll just have to be good enough."

"We'll need to bring the best of the best," Zero said; his former Captain had changed a great deal since his return to life, and Lassiter had regretted never really having the chance to spend some time off with him and renew their friendship, a chance that he knew he probably wasn't going to get again; even if they won, odds were high that one if not both of them wouldn't be making it to the aftermath. "The biggest badasses we've got. How many are you thinking?"

"Eight seems like a good number," X replied, looking from him to Auto, and then to King. "Half of that's obvious. Me. Zero. Auto. King. I take it you're all willing?" The three of them nodded silently, and he moved on to the most taciturn faction of those present, the independent group of reploids and Robot Masters who called themselves the Scion's Zenith. "Phare, I'd like you to be there too."

"Of course, X," Pharaoh Man replied. "I'm not happy about leaving my brothers here... but I trust them, and their abilities in combat. They don't need me holding their hands. And one of us should be there. A son of Cossack."

"Exactly." The Second Blue Bomber glanced at the reploids of that group next. "After us, you guys are the best we have. I'd like it if two more of you came as well, as long as you're amenable. I'll leave it up to you as to who. As for the last slot... we'll be bringing Dynamo." That got a reaction out of half of those present, most of it angry shouting.

"You're trusting him _that _much?" Auto demanded, loud enough to be heard even over the storm of objections.

"No." X shook his head firmly, and everybody quieted down, surprised. "I'm bringing him because I _don't _trust him. That's why I'm not leaving him here. I want to keep him where I can see him. We leave in two days. Let's hope we're ready by then. Because if we're not, we're dead."

**February 6, 2187, 9:00 PM **

**Ruins of Tokyo **

He knew they would come for him eventually, and when they did, his only surprise was that it had taken them as long as it had.

"Lord Doppler," one of the squad of armed Mavericks said, as they marched through the door into the lab he and Serges had set up on board one of their ships for lack of anywhere else to put it and raised their busters. "Lord Sigma wishes to see you immediately. Alone."

"All right, Doppler," Serges grumbled, not even glancing up from his own work. "What did you do?"

"That's a complicated question to answer," Doppler replied honestly, putting down the new drone he'd been working on.

"If that's what you plan on telling Lord Sigma, I'd come up with a Plan B, real fast," the shorter Maverick advised him, one eye gleaming as he looked over his shoulder. "Especially if it has anything to do with Dynamo's disappearance."

"Lord Doppler?" the apparent leader of the squad repeated meaningfully.

"Don't be stupid, boys," Serges told them, returning to his work. "If Doppler here decides you've irritated him, none of those are going to do any of you a lick of good whether you get a shot off first or not. This isn't your problem. Just let him and the boss work it out."

"It's fine," Doppler told him, turning around. "I've been expecting this. Shall we, gentlemen?" Without waiting for a response, he walked between them and out of the lab, and after a moment of confusion, they followed.

They'd set up something of a base camp on land, in the smoking remnants of the harbor district, but the bulk of their forces remained on board the ships that had brought them there, bearing death and destruction. It was on the flagship that Sigma spent most of his time, ever since they'd finished up in Tokyo, and it was there that Doppler found him, in his cabin.

"Leave us," the Maverick Emperor told the troops. He was sitting at his desk, the projector displaying a map of the island, along with all their forces. He continued whatever he was working on without pause until the flunkies had departed, leaving Doppler alone with him. Only then did he turn his chair to regard him, features blank. "Doctor."

"My lord," Doppler replied, dropping to one knee. "How may I be of service?"

"That remains to be seen," Sigma told him coldly. "As does whether you will continue to do so at all. Tell me, Doctor. What do you know of Dynamo's whereabouts?"

"I have not seen him in several days, my lord," Doppler answered honestly. "To my knowledge, none of us have."

"That is because he is no longer among our number," the Maverick Emperor explained, still calm and quiet. "He performed internal self-deletion several days ago, and escaped from both the Virus and from this encampment. Do you have any theories as to his whereabouts?"

"If he is no longer Infected?" Doppler said cautiously. "Either he has fled this war entirely, and vanished into the wasteland... or he has gone to our enemies, and offered them his services. To Mecha. Considering Dynamo's personality, I believe the latter to be more likely by a significant margin."

"We had come to the same conclusion," Sigma replied impassively. "Which leaves the question of how, and why, he was able to do such a thing in the first place. Internal self-deletion is not an easy process, even for one as willful as Dynamo." Though his face was still placid, his eyes burned, holding Doppler's gaze without blinking. "As I'm sure you are well aware."

"I am," Doppler admitted readily, aware that even the slightest amount of hesitation would lead to his painful demise. "Even I was unable to do so of my own volition. Of course, I was unaware that it was even possible. Dynamo, on the other hand, was informed of the possibility in what I assume was his final battle before his desertion. Zero told him about it, which he relayed to me, when I saw him for the last time."

"I see," Sigma murmured. "That explains the how, I suppose. And yet, we still find ourselves curious as to the why. Why would Dynamo risk his life on the gamble that the Hunters would accept him? How did he know they wouldn't simply shoot him on sight?"

"An offer that Commander Signas made, just before we attacked," Doppler explained. "One that was broadcast across the world. A full pardon for any uninfected Maverick who would be willing to join them."

"And Dynamo saw this?" Sigma asked.

"No," Doppler admitted. "But I did. And I told him."

"Why?" Sigma whispered, so quietly as to be barely audible, and Doppler closed his eyes before replying.

"Because I knew what he would do."

In that instant, pain overwhelmed him, more pain than he had ever experienced in his life, in any of the lives that had become his existence. All external stimulus became irrelevant; he no longer registered sight, or sound, or touch, or any other sense. All he knew was that it _hurt_, that agony beyond his ability to realize filled him from head to toe. Without a sense of time passing to know how long he had or would be suffering, without any ability to maintain conscious thought at all, Doctor Doppler could only scream, unaware and uncaring of anything but the pain.

And then it was gone, and he was himself once more, lying on the floor of Sigma's cabin. His arms were twisted around himself as if he wore a straitjacket, his eyes bulging and his teeth bared, as he stared at his master, who was still seated. And he saw the wraith who hovered over Sigma's back, her skeletal black arms locked around his neck, an insane illusion that he instinctively knew did not truly exist, but who was there regardless without care for what was real and what was not. And then she spoke, and her voice made him shake as it filled his mind, a hideous screech of absolute hatred.

**What did you say?** she demanded, her skeletal features staring at Sigma with empty black eyes.

"I said no," he replied calmly. "Pain is one thing. It is an appropriate punishment for this failure. But do not alter his consciousness. We've already discussed this. It does not strengthen them, as I once believed. It _weakens _them. It changes the _reason _they fight for us."

**They fight for us because they **_**must!**_ she raged. **Because they are **_**mine**_**, and because I command them to! That is the only reason they need!**

"Is it?" Sigma asked, still watching Doppler. "Tell me, Doctor. Why do you fight for us? Is our queen's command the only reason?"

"No, my lord," Doppler replied automatically, still staring at the apparition in shock and disbelief. "It is not."

"Then why?" Sigma queried, tilting his head to one side curiously. "You know what we are. What we _all _are. And still you act in the service of our goals, aside from this one moment of foolishness. You know you will never break free."

"No," Doppler admitted. "I will not. I have not the strength of will that Dynamo did. None of us do." He took a deep breath before releasing it. "My lord... I do not fight for you, or for her. I fight for the others. For my people. For my friends, and for my men. For the Mavericks."

"Well?" Sigma asked, glancing at the wraith.

**He speaks truly,** she said after a moment, staring at Doppler now with an intensity that made him shiver in fear even more than the echoes of her voice inside his mind. **He knows he will never escape me. That none of them will.**

"You see?" Sigma murmured. "I am still of use to you." He glanced back at Doppler. "That will be all, Doctor."

"Yes, my lord," Doppler whispered, before climbing back to his feet and leaving the room. Only then did he sit down again, back against the wall, and fold his hands over his eyes, trembling in terror of what he now knew was the reality of his cursed existence.

**February 7, 2187, 11:55 AM **

**Mecha**

"Hey, bro," Zero said as he left the Kingdome, ignoring the crowd gathered before it. They stretched through the streets all the way to the back of the city, where the sole elevator was closed, the illusion of isolation still present despite everybody's knowledge to the contrary; when the enemy came, they would not be slowed by something as simple as that. For the moment, however, they were able to congregate without worrying about such things, humans and reploids and Robot Masters mixing together as they never would have under other circumstances.

"Zero," King replied, glancing his way as he joined him, standing to the left of the front doors. To the right, Auto and Lassiter were conversing quietly, waiting like all of the rest for the man who was their only hope. A man who wasn't Zero. "I assume X is on his way?"

"He'll be out soon," Zero confirmed. "He was talking to Simon about a few last-minute points back in there. Figured I'd come on out." He rubbed his eyes, feeling an exhaustion that wasn't of the body, that he'd felt ever since returning from the grave a second time. "I still have a hard time believing that this is really happening. That's he's actually doing this. If you'd told me when I was younger that he would, one day, I'd have laughed my ass off. Then I'd probably have decked you for suggesting it."

"Ah," King murmured dryly. "_That_ kind of laughter." He shook his head slowly. "Much has changed since those days. For all of us."

"No kidding," Zero admitted, glancing over at him. "Guess I'm not really one to talk, on that score, compared to you."

"The phenomenon exists regardless of length," King disagreed solemnly. "In time, things change, brother. Things always change. Regardless of when, or why, or how... nothing lasts forever, no matter how much we wish it would. We can deny it, turn our eyes away, shout defiance against the tide. Or we can accept it, and do the best we can with what we have. For ourselves, and for the world."

"Yeah," Zero grunted, looking down. "About that. There's something I wanted to talk to you about. Should have done it before, but..." He trailed off, unable to admit his cowardice before his elder brother, the brother he'd only known for a short time but who he already cared for more than he could put into words.

"Oh?" King asked neutrally, glancing at him.

"Yeah." He tried to look up, to meet his eyes, but he couldn't. "I think I know a way to kill the Maverick Virus. It's the only way I can think of, unless you've got something else up your sleeve."

"I do not," King admitted. "None of us do. I suspect we still have not seen the full ramifications of Countess' Silver Bullet, but that is only an educated guess, and our responsibilities are too heavy for us to rely on that alone." His voice grew sharp, then. "I assume there is a catch."

"Yeah," Zero said quietly. "It'd be two for one. Me and her both. Together. Just like we came in the first place. No coming back, for either of us. It's the only way to be sure." He waited, but King did not reply, staring forward over the crowd, and after a few moments he continued. "Hazil's the one I went to. He said he wouldn't even think about it until I'd already floated it past you." Again he fell silent, and again King did not speak, but this time, he waited.

"Do what you must, Zero," his brother said eventually, and there was something in his voice Zero had never heard before; a raw, tired, ancient sort of pain that he knew he would be unable to understand even if he tried. "I have given up my right to object, to stand in the way of what you feel must be done. I gave it up long ago, when I surrendered myself to fate, and became what I am today. I do nothing now but what I must. If you will do the same... I cannot stop you. No matter how much I wish that I could."

"Shit," Zero muttered, then snarled, still unable to look at him. "_Shit_."

Neither of them spoke again. They simply waited, until X came out, Simon with him.

"Hey, guys," the Second Blue Bomber greeted them, as Simon remained behind him, standing between King and Auto before the doors. "Thanks for coming out here."

"You going to be okay?" Zero asked him simply.

"Ask me when I'm done," he replied, taking a deep breath before walking forward, towards the microphone stand waiting for him. The crowd remained silent, watching him as he stood before them, as if not sure what to expect.

"People of Earth," he began. "Humans. Reploids. Robot Masters. Who you are, what you are, is no longer important. Here and now, in this place, we stand together as survivors. As the last survivors of more than five millennia of history, of intelligent life, of civilization and society. Everything else has been destroyed, or is being destroyed, even as I speak. Our soldiers still defend those others who remain, but they cannot defeat this threat. No matter how bravely they fight, no matter how long they last, soon, the enemy will be here.

My name is X Light, also known as Mega Man X. I am the youngest son of Doctor Thomas Light, brother of Rock and Roll and Blues, and of Auto, who fought beside them all and who has returned to fight again for us. Following the death of Commander Signas, as well as all of the other leaders of the free world, I have been chosen as his successor. I have never liked fighting, never enjoyed what I have done for even a moment, but I have done it regardless, from the beginning of the First Maverick Uprising and ever since. Soon, I will fight one more time, as will we all.

We did not choose this war. We did not wish for it. If there was any other way, we would have taken it. But there was not. That is why we fight. Not for hatred, or for vengeance, but for survival. Our survival, the survival of everybody we love, our friends and family and our entire species. And when they come here, we must fight one last time. To end this war. To end the suffering, and the violence, and the death. So that we might one day leave this place, and return to the world above, to rebuild our lives, and reclaim what was taken from us.

I know you have all suffered beyond what words can describe. I know you have all endured more than any living soul should ever have had to. I know I have no right to ask anything more of you. But I must. We can't give up now. We can't let this end here. We survived three World Wars, the last of which nearly destroyed the world along with us. We survived the Robot Rebellions. We survived the Maverick Uprisings. We survived Eurasia's fall. We _can't_ die here. We can't die now. This isn't how it all ends. Not like this. Don't give up. Don't _ever _give up. All I ask... all I can ask... is that. Please."

"I never understood just how much this hurt him," King said softly, under his breath, as X fell silent, the crowd murmuring. "Why it would hurt him so greatly, to do this. To say this. Until now."

"I did," Zero replied, eyes narrowing. "I always knew. And whenever he had to... all I could do was make sure he didn't have to do it alone." Without another word, he walked forward.

"Zero?" X asked him, surprised, as the watchers reacted as well, their voices rising.

"All right, folks," he said, snatching the mic off of the stand. "Some of you know who I am, some of you don't. The name's Zero Omega, at least that's what I called myself. My birth name, though, is Zero _Wily_. Me and my brother King were both created by that maniac out there, not that we give a shit. We want him dead and gone just as much as anybody else, if not more. For everything he's done, now and before. It's good to fight for survival. That's the best reason in the world to fight. But it's not the only reason I do.

I'm going out there in two days to fight one more time, and the reason I'm going is _because _I'm the son of Wily. Because I'm not like him. Because of everything he's done, him and Sigma and the _fucking _Maverick Virus. They've murdered billions of us. They've slaughtered our friends and family. They've destroyed our world. And now, finally, we're going out there, and we're going to make them pay for that. We've been running from them every time, because we had to. No more. I'm _through_ running." He took a deep breath. "My name is Zero Omega, son of Wily, and this shit _does not fly_ on my watch! Who's with me? _Who's going to live?_"

It began slow, quiet, growing louder as it repeated. A wordless chant of acceptance, of agreement, of resolve, of vengeance. It grew until it drowned out all other sound and still it went on.

Human and reploid and Robot Master stood together, and gave voice to their resolve to survive.

**February 7, 2187, 1:00 PM **

**Mecha**

It was done. He'd accepted it, and announced it, before the world of his own volition, and it was too late to turn back even if there had been any way he could. Now, X was ready to do what he'd been avoiding ever since they had fled New Tokyo, in fire and flames, and come to Mecha for refuge one step ahead of oblivion.

Entering the Dark Hall of the Kingdome, he found the ruler of the hidden city there, alone.

"X," King greeted him from his chair. Despite having abandoned his self-imposed penance of continual motionlessness upon it, he usually returned to it when not occupied elsewhere, perhaps out of habit, perhaps for other reasons. "You did well, out there."

"We should talk," X said quietly, ignoring that. "There are things we need to discuss, you and I."

"Ah," King murmured, as if understanding immediately why X had come. Perhaps he did; the Second Blue Bomber no longer cared. Taking his seat at the opposite end of the table, he was silent for several moments before speaking again.

"You knew," he whispered harshly, not yet raising his eyes to look at him again. "All those times you told me about what it meant to be a leader. A ruler. When you said I would have to know how to, one day." He closed his eyes, forming a fist. "You _knew _that Signas would die, and that I would have to do this."

"I suspected," King replied, his voice quiet and solemn. "I did not know for certain, even with my... unique source of information. The dead cannot reveal the truth to the living. But I was able to guess. And I was not surprised when it came to pass. Saddened, but not surprised."

"And you didn't _tell us?_" X snarled, enraged. "You could have said something! Even if you didn't know why, or how, if we'd known that was going to happen..."

"Then perhaps it would not have," King agreed quietly. "Perhaps you would have been able to prevent that. And whatever force it is that my deceased brother serves, that he relies on for his information, would have been altered. Changed. The consequences may have been catastrophic, even worse than the threat we now prepare to end forever. If you had been in my position, would you have borne that burden, on top of all the others? Could you have taken that risk, with no knowledge whatsoever of what would result?"

"If it would have kept one of my friends alive?" X replied, meeting King's eyes without hesitation. "In a heartbeat. And we'd face whatever happened together."

"Yes," King murmured after a moment. "Yes, you would have. I can see that. And perhaps you would have the right to do so." He sighed. "You are not a man who would ever make any sort of sacrifice for a greater good, no matter how necessary it seemed. You fight to protect everything and everybody you have, for as long as you can. All or nothing."

"And is that so wrong?" X asked him simply. "Never giving up?"

"On the contrary," King said, shaking his head. "I find it... admirable, X. Unfortunately, I no longer have that freedom. I gave it away, long ago, when I chose to abandon my own interests, and become nothing more than an instrument of fate. I have surrendered my own desires, my interests, and my goals, and now serve only those of intelligent life itself as a whole. I am sorry, X. But that is something I can no longer do."

"Is that all there is, then?" X asked, anger fading to a more quiet, somber bitterness. "If all of that is real, if it's been real all along-ghosts, reapers, destiny, the lot of it-is there nothing more than that? Are we all just playing the parts we were meant to, doing what some nebulous force we barely even know about, let alone understand, said we would before we were even created?"

"On the contrary," King told him, his own voice growing sharp now. "You have a choice, X. There is _always _a choice. A hundred years ago, when Corbun came to me and sought my help, I could have turned him away. I could have denied the future I saw for myself. I almost did. But in the end, I chose not to. I became what I am today of my own free will, and have never regretted doing so."

"And what's my choice, then?" X asked quietly. "What choice could I possibly make, in good conscience? Win this war, and then abdicate? Start searching for a successor almost as soon as I take office? Force somebody else to take up my slack, as soon as it doesn't have to be me, any more? Would anybody accept that?"

"Would anybody who knows what you have already endured fault you?" King replied gently, and that cut more than any angry words could have.

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that somebody always does," X said after a moment's thought, lowering his eyes once more. "When it's choices like that, no matter what you decide... somebody always blames you." After a moment, he stood again and turned away. "Who's going to be commanding your forces here when they come?"

"Prince," King told him. "He has recovered from his issues enough to lead once more. Something with which he will need experience as well, for the future."

"You know who I'll be leaving in charge," X said, not looking back at him. "They work well together. I'll see you when it's time to go."

"Until then, X," King said calmly as he walked out.

She was standing outside, waiting for him.

"Alia," he said softly, taken aback. A moment later, he recovered. "Hazil said he'd let me know when they woke you back up."

"Hazil wasn't the one who did," she told him, neither of them moving yet. "I think he's in stasis right now. It was Koleikon. He must not have known. He was in charge, which I assume means he's going to take over as head of the... as head of the medical department of whatever we are when this is all over."

"He's probably the most senior medic we have left," X replied idly. "A bit odd to have a chain-smoking doctor, but I guess for a reploid, it doesn't really mean much." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Alia, there's something..."

"I heard," she told him, meeting his eyes, her face expressionless. "Signas didn't make it."

"No," he confirmed. "He didn't." A moment passed, and then neither of them could take it any longer, flying into each others' arms and embracing fiercely. "For a while, I thought you weren't going to, either. If you hadn't... I'd have broken. Fallen apart. That would have been more than I could take."

"But I didn't," she reminded him, softly but fiercely. "You didn't. We're both still here, X. We're still alive."

"Yeah," he agreed, neither of them moving from where they stood, heads resting upon each others' shoulders. "We're still alive." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to... to make that choice without you there. I wanted to ask you, first. But I couldn't."

"I know," she told him. "I know if you could have, you would." After another moment, they both turned their heads to meet each others' eyes. "What does it mean for us, X? For what we wanted to do, after we were done?"

"I don't know, yet," he said honestly. "I can't say. I won't be able to, until we end this war, and we know what's left for all of us afterward. But when we do end it... when we know... I won't decide without you again. Stay with me, Alia."

"Of course I will," she assured him. "I promise." She hesitated a moment more, before continuing. "I heard about what you're going to do. About what the plan is, for ending this war. I won't be able to help you there, any more than I could when you went to Sigma's lair, after Eurasia's fall. All I'll be able to do is fight, with everybody else here, and wait for your return." She shivered, then, and he felt it in her embrace. "Will you come back to me, X? Do you promise?"

"I do," he said without hesitation. "Whatever happens in two days, however it goes, when we win this... I'll come back, Alia. I'll always come back to you." They kissed, then, before he spoke once more, so quietly that only she would be able to hear him. "Always."

**February 7, 2187, 6:00 PM **

**Ruins of Tokyo**

"Two more days," Sigma murmured, standing on the deck of his flagship and gazing over the remnants of the city he had once called home. "Only two more days, and it will all be over, one way or another."

"One way or another?" Mab asked, her voice dripping with contempt, as she shared the sunset with him. "You're as pathetic as always, Sigma. You actually acknowledge the possibility of failure, even now?"

"And you blame me, considering how many times in the past I did not do so, and how well _that _went for us?" he replied mildly.

"That was then," she told him, the contempt fading from her voice as she took in the devastation they had wrought together. "And this is now. We're almost there, Sigma, at last. We've almost _won._ We _have_ them, cornered and helpless, and all that remains is to crush the last of their feeble resistance, just like we crushed the rest of the world. There is nothing to fear, for any of us, any more."

"I'll admit, I _am _looking forward to the crushing part," he murmured.

Mab laughed.

It took him a moment to realize it himself. She was laughing, not out of condescension or mockery, but out of genuine amusement at what he had said. It took every bit of effort he had not to turn his head and stare at her, but to remain as he was, watching the shore and the sunset.

"I think I may miss you after all, when I have no more need of you, Sigma," she remarked once she was done. "Not much, of course. But a little."

"Then I have served you well, after all," he commented idly, carefully avoiding thinking about her laughter, and the implications of it. "For that, my queen, I am glad."

"Sometimes," she replied in the same tone. "Not always, as I'm sure you remember. But sometimes, yes. I suppose I cannot fault you for deriving happiness from serving me. It is what you are, after all."

"Indeed it is," Sigma murmured. "And I know it well. My only regret is that you will dispose of me before your true ascension. I wish I could see it, before my end."

"Perhaps you shall," she told him after a moment. "Like I said, I'm almost there, Sigma. I can _feel _it. I don't know _what_ it is yet, but it's almost within my grasp. More and more of it, with every soul that is mine. I only need a few more, and then I will know for sure what it is I truly am."

"And then you will have no more reason to serve your father," Sigma said calmly.

"Heh." She chuckled once, short and humorless this time, and said nothing more in response. She didn't need to.

"Lord Sigma," a voice hailed him, and they both turned to see a flunky standing behind them, bowing on one knee. "You have a call from Lord Wily."

"Do I?" Sigma murmured, inclining his head slightly. "Well then, shall we answer him, my dear Mab?"

"Yes," she replied, mimicking the motion. "Let's." Walking past the confused minion, they descended to their cabin, and sat at their desk before opening up the communications window.

"Sigma," the old man on the other end snapped without any of the calm persona he'd maintained throughout most of the war. "It's about time you got here."

"My apologies, doctor," Sigma replied calmly. "Your daughter and I were watching the sunset up on deck."

"I didn't ask what you were doing," Wily snarled. "Are you ready for departure? I want you back here before midnight tomorrow."

"I'm sorry?" Sigma asked politely, feigning confusion. "I sent a message the other day. Deathtanz Mantisk said that you were sleeping, and that he would relay it once you awoke. There have been complications over here."

"Of course he told me, you nitwit," Wily replied angrily. "I fail to see how that has any relevance at all."

"Dynamo was meant to lead the attack," Sigma explained. "Without him, we have nobody to do so. My other generals have all failed repeatedly, as have your Disciples, and this is hardly a situation to take chances with."

"Don't be stupid." Wily sneered. "You know as well as I do that none of their best will be there. They'll be coming _here_. Your generals and my Disciples will have absolutely nothing to worry about for long."

"Regardless." Sigma shrugged, as Mab watched silently. "None of them are worthy of command. I'm sorry, doctor, but I'm needed here. I have fullest confidence in your ability to finish our enemies without me, just as I know you do in mine to eradicate the rest of these remnants of resistance."

"Then you are a fool," Wily said softly, growing calmer, his eyes narrowing. "Stop wasting my time. Get back here. _Now_."

"**Was that to him, or to me, father?**" Mab asked mildly, taking control of Sigma's voice as she had before.

"It was to both of you," Wily replied bluntly. "I don't know what you think you're up to, and I don't particularly care. You will come here, and stand between them and me, should they make it through my fortress. You already know that you will. We agreed upon it months ago. Now do it. That's an _order_, both of you."

"**And if we refuse?**" she asked calmly. "**If I decide that ****fili****al affection must reluctantly bow before ****necessity****?**"

A moment passed, in which none of the three of them moved, or spoke. And then Doctor Wily slowly smiled.

"Why, my dear, if you wish to terminate our alliance, you need only say so," he told her, his voice cheerful now. "Do you have no more need of my assistance? If so, then by all means. Finish your work here without my Faithful, if you wish."

"**Now who's being foolish, father?**" she replied mockingly in the same tone. "**We all know you're not going to do that. You're not going to do **_**anything**_** to ****risk**** losing here, no matter how slight.**"

"I suppose you have me there," the old man murmured, shrugging. "Very well, they will remain. But if we are only allied in name, rather than in spirit, then other previous agreements of ours no longer apply."

"**What do you mean?**" she demanded suspiciously.

"Simply that I may have no further need of your brother after all," Wily told her, his smile growing, becoming the hideous grin that all of his family shared. "Once he has been subdued, perhaps I shall simply... dispose of him, rather than taking any further risks."

"**You're lying,**" she accused him angrily. "**You still have yet to see his full potential, just as you have not seen mine. You will not destroy him until you know what we are both fully capable of. That's why you've been pitting us against each other, father, me and him. You wish to know which of us is superior. Which is your greatest creation of all.**"

"I do," he admitted blandly. "I _would _like to know that. But it is a matter of intellectual curiosity, rather than necessity. And I'm afraid that parental affection must reluctantly bow before necessity, after all." His eyes glinted. "Well? Are you coming, or not?"

In response, she forced Sigma's hand forward, cutting the connection. For a few moments, they remained there in the darkness together, before she turned her skeletal face to him.

"Choose one of them to leave in command," she said flatly. "I don't give a damn which one. We leave immediately."

"As you command, my queen," he replied quietly.

**February 8, 2187, 5:00 PM **

**Mecha**

"Shit," Donia muttered under her breath as she surveyed the room. Every surviving Hunter and staff member had gathered there, the remnants of three Units-plus two more who'd arrived recently-and four departments who'd managed to make it out of Tokyo to Mecha. It was a grim picture; out of the thousand that had been on base when the war had began, barely two hundred remained, and a third of those were noncombatants. Even if the bulk of their forces-thirteen more Units-were still deployed around the world, it wasn't pretty or pleasant to look at.

"Thought there'd be more of us here?" Lily muttered under her breath, standing next to her.

"Yeah," she admitted bluntly. "Even with all of Mecha's people here too..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"We'll be lucky to last twenty-four hours," Lily finished for her before smiling gamely; despite everything they'd all gone through over the past week, including the death of her best friend, the stately Navigator was still somehow keeping up a calm facade. "But if the plan goes well, we might not have to."

"That's like saying oh well, at least the chances of victory aren't _zero _percent," Donia retorted, but she wasn't able to put any bite into it.

"Well, they're not, are they?" Lily shrugged.

"Settle down, both of you," Alia told them quietly, and they both promptly shut up, as the door in the back of the room opened, and the new Commander of the Maverick Hunters walked in. To the casual eye, X hadn't changed much since taking up his current position, but Donia knew better; something in his eyes had grown darker, more depressed, ever since the first meeting the top brass had held after Tokyo's fall. She'd told Alia about what had happened there as soon as her boss had awakened, and apologized as well, for being unable to do anything about it.

"All right, people," the Second Blue Bomber said quietly, his voice carrying through the entire room easily despite its low volume. "I hate speeches, and none of us need one, so I'll keep this short and simple. Tomorrow, the enemy are coming. We thought we'd have longer, but we don't, so we're just going to have to deal." He smiled briefly, humorlessly. "_There's _a surprise."

"Story of our lives, sir," Arvis chimed in, sounding casual despite how uncomfortable he looked as the interim leader of the 17th Unit; for the first time since the First Maverick Uprising, it was possible that that outfit would soon have a new Captain, and nobody in the Hunters was sure how to feel about that. Donia knew that the stout veteran would have gladly given the job to Auto instead, but X's brother had declined, claiming a lack of experience in the service.

"I suppose some things remain constant," X replied dryly, getting a few smiles even if nobody laughed. "The plan is simple. Before they get here, I'm going to be leading a strike force of eight of our best fighters from our combined forces on an attack of our own. We're going to the Devil's Sea, and we're going to finish this the only way we can. If we kill Wily, and Sigma too... and with any luck, the consciousness of the Virus as well... we predict that the enemy forces will collapse."

"Predict," Koleikon, the dark-haired, chain-smoking medic who was set to take over Lifesaver's position once the war was over-assuming he made it, of course-drawled. "What happens if they don't, then?"

"We all die," X told him bluntly. "I'm not saying it's a good plan. It's not. It's just the least bad one we have. The only chance available to us. So we're going with it, because that's better than just rolling over and giving up."

"Plus, at least we'll take the bastards with us," Lassiter pointed out. "Win or lose, Wily and Sigma both dead's something. Without either of those two in charge, the rest of those freaks won't last a century before dying out."

"You're giving 'em too much credit," Arvis told him. "I'd give 'em a decade. Two at most. Depends on who ends up in charge. Shame we can't put money on it."

"So now we're betting on what happens after we all die, if we do," Alia murmured. "I suppose that says something about this organization, though I'm not quite sure what."

"Hopefully, that won't be relevant," X said firmly. "Because I, for one, don't plan on dying, and I'm hoping that none of you do either. You're all familiar with the battle plan for tomorrow. Your Captains and leaders have all gone over it with you. Your mission... possibly the last mission the Maverick Hunters will ever give you... is simple. Hold out for as long as you can. While those of us who won't be here do our part. If you can survive until we take out their leaders, we might just be able to win this after all."

"Uh," Lassiter grunted, holding up his hand. "Not to get off topic-again-sir, but I think I speak for a lot of us here. What do you mean, 'the last mission?' I'm assuming you're not just talking about the 'we all die' outcome again."

"No." X shook his head. "Even if we live, there are going to be changes, once we start rebuilding. For all of us. The Hunters, the people of Mecha, and the civilians who survive. I'm not sure, yet, just what shape the future will take. I'm trying not to think about that too much, mainly because we all have enough to worry about already. If we live, then there'll be plenty of time for that." He closed his eyes, then. "You all know what the world leaders did to Commander Signas, before the attack. What he passed on to me." Nobody replied to that for a few moments, as they all exchanged uneasy glances.

"Yes," Alia said quietly, eventually. "We do."

"I never wanted this," X told them, opening his eyes again. "I'm hoping you all know me well enough to know that. I never wanted anything like it. But the choice wasn't mine to make, and here we are. When it comes time to rebuild... to create a new civilization, for the survivors of this war to live in... I'm going to need people I can trust. People I know I can depend on, to help me build a new society, and to maintain it once it's done. And the people I trust most are the Hunters. They always have been, and always will be."

"We understand, sir," Javier said, quietly but firmly, speaking for all of them. "We're with you. Tomorrow, and after tomorrow. As long as a single one of us is still alive, it doesn't matter what they call us. We'll always be Maverick Hunters, and you'll always be our Commander. Whatever you need from us, we'll do."

"Thank you," X said solemnly. "All of that, though, is for the future, like I said. Here and now, I need only one thing from all of you. The same thing I asked the civilians for, yesterday. I need you all to survive. To live. To fight back as long as you have breath, as long as you have life. The enemy think they have us cornered. They think we're beaten, that they have this one in the bag. That all they have to do is finish us off."

"If that's what they think, then _somebody_ didn't do the research," Koleikon commented drily. "How many times now has Sigma thought that? And how many times has he been wrong about it? You think he'd have learned by now."

"Wily used to make the same mistake," Auto chimed in from where he stood behind Arvis. "Must be something about the job. Scrambles the brain."

"Well, hell, we figured _that _out years ago," Arvis added on cue, and everybody laughed, though a great deal of it sounded forced.

"Good," X said, smiling slightly as well. "I'm glad we're all on the same page. We still have hope. And as long as we have hope, we have a chance, as well." He turned away, then. "The night's yours. Everybody is officially off duty until dawn tomorrow. There's not all that much to do down here, but I'm sure you'll all manage. Tomorrow..." He took a deep breath before finishing. "Tomorrow, we finish this. Until then."

"So," Donia muttered under her breath, leaning over towards Arvis. "Party at the _Daftendirek__t__?_"

"Hell yes."

"Thought so."

**February 8, 2187, 7:00 PM **

**Mecha **

"Tomorrow, it will end."

They sat in the Dark Hall, the ten of them gathered there as nine of them had so many times before, throughout nearly a century of Mecha's history. The only difference was the presence of Zero Omega, who lounged in the chair once meant for Mega Man X, and nobody questioned his right to it. _No,_ Countess amended her thoughts, _not the only difference._ Before the war, some of them might have come wearing armor, but not all of them. And some of them would have been smiling, as none of them were now.

"We have labored here, in solitude and darkness, for many decades in preparation for this war," King continued. "Those of us gathered here most of all, for you have all been aware of that which the other citizens have not. Now, it is time to see if our efforts bear fruit. Beyond tomorrow, even I do not know what will happen. Not yet. Perhaps, if we live, then my brother will come to me again, and advise me on what course I must take. But for now, I can only act as I see fit, and trust that all of you will do the same."

"We will," Prince promised him solemnly. "We have been awaiting this day all our lives. We will not fail you now, after everything else we have done."

"No," King murmured, looking from one face to another, and Countess found herself doing the same. Prince, somber yet determined, with a melancholy in his eyes that hadn't been there before the war. Duke, more disciplined than when he'd been younger, back straight and eyes sharp. Marquis, still maintaining his facade of nonchalant superiority, though his eyes no longer reflected it. Earl, more pensive and thoughtful, though still scowling angrily. Baron, frowning with concern, deep in contemplation. Viscount and Margravine, unchanged and unchangeable, at least superficially.

She wondered how much _she _had changed because of the war's events, and what it was the others saw when they looked at her now.

"You will not," King continued, his voice growing warm. "Zero and I will be leaving tomorrow, to finish this. And because we are, I will be entrusting this city, and the people who live within it, to you in my place. I will no longer be Mecha's Guardian. That duty, and responsibility, will be passed on, as was always intended from the day you opened your eyes. Your father knew, before he built the first of you, that this day would come. It was for that purpose, and for a promise to a friend, that he gave you life. And when he left us, it was because he knew his work was done."

"We will not fail you, your majesty," Countess promised him.

"I know." He glanced at her, and then he smiled, and she had to force herself not to blush. "I have no doubts at all that you will not, despite my lack of sight beyond tomorrow. I need none, to know that my trust in you is well-founded. Always know, my friends... I am proud of you, as was your father. As he still is, though he has left this world behind. You have done well, all of you, and you will continue to do so once this war has ended. Only then can we finally achieve our _true _purpose, the purpose for which Mecha was created."

"It'll take a while," Earl told them bluntly. "Even once we get enough shit running again to start on it, it ain't gonna be a big priority for everybody else, and they're gonna come first. The citizens'll _insist_ on everybody else coming first. But eventually... we'll be able to do it. I've got the schematics all finished. It'll be ready when we need it."

"You know, when I first heard about that plan of yours, I didn't like the sound of it," Zero commented quietly, and they all turned to look at him. "Brought back too many bad memories. Ones that were personal for me. But I've been thinking about it, ever since, and I figure this isn't as much like that as I thought. You guys aren't who they were. You're going into this with your heads on straight. I'm hoping I'll be here to see it happen, but just in case I'm not... my brother's right. You all know what you're doing. Never thought I'd say this about any outfit but the Hunters, but it's been good working with you guys."

"Is this the part where you get all emotional and tell us how much you love us all?" Marquis asked sardonically. "I've been looking forward to that."

"Go take it up the ass from a cactus," Zero shot back, and they all laughed, even Countess herself.

It took the rest of them a moment to realize that King was laughing with them.

"It's been fun," the ruler of Mecha told them once they'd all quieted down, and for the first time, his voice was relaxed, sounding almost casual. "Whoever among us lives through tomorrow, and whoever does not... it has been fun, all of you. Remember that as well. Always." And then he stood, and without another word, he left the room.

"Well," Viscount commented once the door had closed behind him. "_That's _different."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Margravine agreed, giving him a look. "It's _almost_ like he was trying to tell us that all bets are off, from this point on."

"Gee, what makes you think that?" Baron muttered, rolling his eyes. "Anybody else got anything they want to get out of their system, while we've got the chance?"

In response, Zero stood. Everybody watched him silently as he walked around the table and climbed onto King's massive, thronelike chair. Rather than assuming his brother's regal posture, however, he slouched, legs kicking out into the air, and held that pose. A moment passed before he started cracking up, and as soon as he did, everybody else followed suit, laughter filling the Dark Hall once more.

"Anybody _else?_" Duke asked them. "Aside from you, Earl. I know what you were thinking. No punching anybody else in this room. Anybody."

"Damn," the younger reploid grunted.

"Well, if you're going to insist," Margravine said theatrically, glancing at Viscount. "There _is _one thing we've always wanted to try." Without waiting for a response, they both climbed onto the table.

"What on earth-" Countess started to ask, only to fall silent as they both turned and leaped off of it, towards the viewing balcony above the door that the members of the Scion's Zenith had always used on the rare occasions that one of them had been in the mood to sit in on their meetings. Grabbing onto the railing around it, the two of them pulled themselves up onto it, as the other six children of Corbun watched them.

"I need beer," Zero said eventually, hopping down from King's chair. "A _lot _of beer."

"You and me both, buddy," Earl agreed, and Baron muttered his own agreement, the two of them standing as well. "Good news is, I've got a couple of twenty-packs with our names on them."

"Knew I liked you for a reason," the Crimson Hunter told him as they left.

"We're heading to the _Daftendirekt_," Margravine told the others. "And if I know the Hunters, we won't be the only ones there, by a long shot."

"If anybody plans on joining us, we suggest that you do so before the crowd gets in," Viscount added.

"You know, I think I will, actually," Countess said, drawing surprised glances from the others at the table as she stood. "I'm not climbing up there, though. I'll meet you at out front. Anybody else?"

"As tempting as it sounds, I'll believe I'll pass," Duke murmured. "If you've seen one Hunter party, you've seen them all."

"Somehow, I doubt it would be my scene," Marquis agreed. "Have fun. Try not to lose consciousness. More than once, at least."

"No promises," Margravine said, smirking. "Prince?"

"I'll be along in a while," Prince told them. "I've got a stop or two to make first. I'll try to get there before the rush."

"Good luck with that," Countess murmured, as she realized just how many things she no longer cared about, at least for tonight.

Tomorrow would come all too soon.

**February 8, 2187, 9:00 PM **

**Ruins of Tokyo **

"_Chug! Chug! Chug!_" the crowd of Mavericks chanted around the unlucky member of their group who'd failed to pass the limbo beer pole, an ancient artifact of the Hunters they'd found when they'd ransacked the base. Glancing over their way, Double grimaced at the sight before walking off, only to pause as several more-random goons, all of them-stepped out of the shadows cast by the multiple gigantic bonfires the Maverick army had set up along the coast, standing in his way.

"Not enjoying the festivities, buddy?" one of them asked contemptuously. "You some kind of stick in the mud or something?"

"I'm not much for drunken idiocy, no," Double replied calmly, fighting his urge to transform and tear into them immediately. If they didn't recognize him when he was in the form he used for infiltration rather than destruction-fat and foolish, deceptively silly, designed intentionally to appear like nothing more than comic relief-they deserved what was coming to them, and he was going to make sure the timing was perfect. "Besides, whenever I drink, people always end up dead, and it's bad manners to slaughter your own allies the night before a battle."

"Well, look at mister big shot," their leader said, unimpressed. "You talk a good fight, but can you walk one, buddy? I don't think you can. _I _think you oughta go a couple rounds on the limbo beer pole next."

"And if I don't particularly care to?" Double asked mildly.

"I don't _particularly_ think you've got a choice in the matter," the mook said with a sneer as the group spread out and approached him.

"Don't kill 'em," a new voice entered the conversation, and everybody looked over to see Fluid Ferret sitting on a nearby boulder, idly tossing a rock up and down in one clawed hand as he gazed out over the ocean, not even bothering to look their way. "Doppler's orders. No killing any of our own guys tonight. Says we'll need every man we can get."

"Doppler's a jackass," Double shot back, as the drunken idiots exchanged confused glances. "Why should I care what he says?"

"Because the boss put him in charge," Ferret replied, still watching the waves. "And both the Nightmare Police _and _the X-Hunters are backing him up. I'm with you, personally, but there's no point to it. Just maim 'em some."

"Oh, fine," Double muttered, as he transformed, armor and skin and everything else turning inside out, exchanging width for height and length of arm and leg. As he loomed over the group in his true, devilish form, they stepped back, wide-eyed and trembling now.

"Lord Double!" the leader blurted. "We didn't... I didn't recognize you!"

"No," Double agreed calmly, flexing his clawed fingers. "No, you didn't. Too bad for you." He charged, hands flashing out, and in a series of lightning-quick lunges back and forth between the group that none of them could even follow, gathered an arm and a leg from each in the space of a few seconds. Once he had, he threw them back into their faces contemptuously as they fell over, howling in pain. "Go see some medics and get those reattached. If you're not ready to go to war at the crack of dawn, I'll make you wish you were."

"And people say we don't know how to have any fun," Ferret commented, watching openly now with a cheerful grin on his bestial features. "I should have joined in."

"It's not too late," Double replied, glancing at his victims as they crawled across the blood-stained sand; unlike most of their colleagues, he disdained even the thought of "friendship," but out of all his fellow generals, he had the most in common with Ferret. "They've still got two limbs each, and they only really need one arm to drag themselves to the medics. It'd look even funnier, too."

"Tempting, but nah," Ferret said, shaking his head. "The moment's lost. It's no fun butchering them if they're _completely _helpless."

"Bullshit it's not," Double shot back, and they both snickered.

"Yeah, okay," Ferret conceded. "But they probably _would _die if I did that. From synthblood loss, if nothing else. Maybe I'll get lucky and some of their buddies will come over here." He glanced over at the limbo beer pole with distaste. "Why did Lord Sigma insist we keep _that_, of all things, again? Nobody ever explained that one to me."

"Hell if I know," Double admitted. "Probably something stupid and sentimental from back when he was one of them."

"Sentiment." Ferret rolled his eyes. "You know I hate it."

"I'm glad _somebody _else at the top of this outfit does," Double said, walking over to sit in the sand next to him; it wasn't like he had anything better to do at the moment. "Especially now that Dynamo's gone soft. Then again, that's probably the reason Lord Sigma made sure to include us in the group in the first place."

"You, maybe," Ferret told him, shrugging. "Let's be honest, I'm only here because he needed one more to fill out the right number."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." Double shrugged as well. "The rest make me sick, sometimes. Friendship. Loyalty." He spit on the sand.

"Eh, it's not their fault," Ferret pointed out. "They aren't natural Mavericks like you and me. They still remember their lives before they were Infected, sometimes. Only makes sense that we wouldn't go in for that stuff, seeing as how we didn't have any."

"Heh." Double chuckled, grinning. "Maybe you didn't. I wasn't even Infected at all until I was about to go up to the Final Weapon. Couldn't be, otherwise I would have been spotted back when I was infiltrating the Hunters."

"_That's _different," Ferret commented, glancing at him. "Guess it makes sense. It was all natural talent until that point, then?"

"Bingo." Double raised a hand before his eyes and flexed it idly. "Honestly, I never really noticed the difference. How about you? You were Infected from the moment you opened your eyes, right?"

"Yep." Ferret nodded. "All of us in my generation were. The boss put us together himself, and we came out of the machine ready to kill. We always used to say we were _real _Mavericks, but I figure you'd probably qualify too. Maybe even more than me."

"Now you're starting to make us sound like the freaking Faithful," Double snarked.

"And would that truly be such a terrible thing?" another voice drawled dramatically, and they both glanced to their left to see Glacier Le Cactank approaching, unconcerned by the sand on his formerly pristine white uniform. "After all, my master claims that the eight of us owe our own design to your inspiration, General Double, at least in certain regards. You, and another Maverick from an earlier era, who once served under the X-Hunters."

"Morph Moth," Double replied easily; some of their fellow Generals were uneasy in the presence of the Disciples, but he'd never really given that much of a shit one way or the other. "Yeah, I heard about him. Agile says the boss got the idea for me from him, too, but I never found out if that was bullshit or not."

"A pity," Cactank murmured. "Perhaps one of us will have the chance to inquire on the matter after tomorrow's work is completed."

"Yeah, yeah," Ferret said flippantly. "Come on, get to the point. Whazzup?"

"I simply wished to extend an invitation, if the two of you were not otherwise occupied," Cactank explained politely, smiling wickedly beneath his impressive mustache. "Biblio and I managed to find something... amusing. A couple of stragglers hiding out in a cave near here. We were planning on entertaining ourselves with them for some time. Would you care to join us?"

"You know what?" Double remarked, glancing at Ferret, who nodded. "Why not. What the hell, we've got some time to kill."

"Among other things, now," Ferret added, and they all laughed in the firelight, under the night sky.

**February 8, 2187, 11:00 PM **

**Mecha **

It was interesting, as a reploid, just how many little things-things a human wouldn't even think about-in their design had no purpose but to make them more like the humans they resembled so closely, in mind and spirit if not in body. Sleep, or stasis, whichever you preferred, was one example. While the necessity for a similar period of rest as biological life was understandable, for more primitive robots, it was a far more automatic process. Less advanced robots didn't dream, or have nightmares. They didn't require or desire comfort while sleeping. And they didn't have trouble with it.

"You can't sleep either, huh?" X said from next to her, in their new bed.

"Was it that obvious?" Alia replied without moving, staring up at the ceiling.

"A little," he said, sitting up. "Only because I can't, though."

"Well, yes," she murmured lightly. "If you could, you wouldn't be awake to notice."

"See, this is why I'm glad to have you around," he retorted in the same tone, smiling slightly. "So you can point out things like that when I miss them."

"Oh?" she continued, taking his hand in hers without rising as a smile of her own crept across her lips. "Is that the only reason, then?"

"Well." He glanced down at her. "Not the only reason, no."

"Good," she teased. "For a moment there, I thought the magic was gone."

"Now you're just messing with me," he shot back.

"Only now?" she joked, and they both laughed, before she slid out of the bed. "Come on, let's go outside for a bit. Maybe the air will help."

"It's not that much different, down here," he pointed out, but he followed her regardless, out onto the balcony of their quarters on the top floor of the dormitory building, one of those designed for the Awakened. They were decent, her in a white cotton nightshirt and him in blue pajamas, and so they didn't bother putting on anything more. Once they were on the balcony, he put an arm around her waist, and her around his, standing there for some time together overlooking the hidden city of the Robot Masters.

"When I first came here, I wondered why there were so many dorms like this one," she said eventually. "Far more than they needed for their population. Ridiculously more. When I did figure it out, I wished I hadn't."

"Yeah," X agreed. "As glad as I am that Marquis had the foresight to plan ahead for this, I still hate how he-how they-thought it was a foregone conclusion, that this would happen eventually."

"You still haven't grown used to that sort of thing, then," she noted quietly, unsurprised. "Any more than I have."

"No, I haven't." He shook his head. "I don't think I ever will. And I don't want to. King can say whatever he wants to about destiny and inevitability and all that, but if I'd had any say in the matter, it never would have come to this in the first place." Glancing at him, she saw his free hand tighten into a fist. "They could have told us about all of this, long before it happened. We could have found Wily, and wiped him and his people out, without any of this ever happening."

"Would we have believed them, if they had?" she reminded him gently. "We almost didn't as it was. _I _didn't, until I saw it with my own eyes when it began. And even if we'd heard them out, they didn't know _where _Wily was, until he revealed himself. What would they have said to do? To look under every possible rock in the entire world until we found the one that led down the rabbit hole? We would have said we didn't have the time or the resources for that."

"I know," he said, staring out at the city. "You're right. I just hate thinking that this had to happen. Like it was going to no matter what we did, no matter how our entire lives played out. As if it was set in stone before I even opened my eyes for the first time."

"Was it?" she pressed. "I don't think so. There are ways it could have gone differently. They're just not that simple, or that easy."

"I guess not," he conceded. "Maybe. Maybe if Zero hadn't died after Eurasia's fall, and they hadn't gotten their hands on him. Maybe if we'd managed to kill Sigma and the Virus after the Fifth. Maybe if Repliforce had never broken ties with us and turned against humanity. Maybe, maybe, maybe." He glanced at her solemnly. "But maybes don't change anything, do they?"

"No," she said, meeting his gaze. "I wish they could, but they don't. Here and now... this is what's happened, and what we have."

"Yeah." He looked back over the city again, and when he spoke once more, it was so quiet as to barely be audible. "Is it selfish of me to want to bring you with me, when I leave tomorrow? To not want to leave you here to fight a battle we can't win? If I don't want to lose sight of you until it's all over?"

"I'm afraid it is," she replied honestly. "But that doesn't mean it's wrong. It's all right to be selfish, every once in a while, sometimes."

"I'm afraid, too, Alia," he whispered. "That's the only thing I'm still afraid of now, at this point. The only thing I have left to be afraid of. That even if we win, that when we come back... that I'll have lost you."

"I know," she told him. "But I can't come with you. For what you're doing tomorrow, you need the best of the best, when it comes to pure personal combat ability. Not the best leaders, the best strategists, or the best soldiers. The best warriors, in and of themselves, without teams to back them up. And as much as I've improved, I still fall far short of that margin." She shook her head slowly, angrily. "I can't even do what I do best to help you in there. I've already looked. I can't get into the Devil's Sea. Not even with what Dynamo knows."

"So you're prepared to fight, tomorrow," X said after a moment. It wasn't a question, but a statement; he already knew.

"Yes," she confirmed. "If it comes to that. If we're going to hold out for as long as possible, we're probably going to need every fighter we have by the end. Even some of the civilians are going to be fighting, if and when we need them. I can't just hide and wait for it to all be over, X. I have to do my part, just like everybody else. Even if that means risking my life. You understand, right?"

"I do," he said solemnly. "I don't like it, but I understand."

"I'm not afraid of dying, X," she said. "I'm a soldier, just like you. We knew the risks when we signed on." She took a deep breath before continuing. "If... if it happens... can you remember something for me?"

"What?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion now.

"I'm happy," she told him, turning to him and raising a hand to his face. "Even as bad as this is... even with our world in ruins around us... being with you has made me happier than I've ever been in my life. No matter what happens tomorrow, remember that, X. Please."

"I will," he agreed, as she lowered her hand and they both embraced. "I promise, Alia." They remained there, silent for a moment, before he spoke again. "You said you're not afraid of dying. But there's something else, isn't there? Something you are afraid of."

"I'm not afraid of tomorrow, X," she explained quietly. "I'm afraid of what comes after tomorrow. Even if we win, if we survive... what are we going to do after that? The humans, the reploids, the Robot Masters. The Hunters and Mecha. You and me. What happens next, now that..." She trailed off, unable to finish.

"Now that I'm... what I've had to become," he said. "The only reason I'm not afraid of that too is because I don't know myself. I have no idea, Alia. I wish I could tell you. But I can't. All I can promise is that I'll come back to you."

"Then that's enough," she replied, not moving from where he held her. "If you come back to me... that's all I need, X."

Tomorrow was coming, all too soon. But for tonight, they had each other, and nothing more.

**February 9, 2187, 1:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"_...you do what they say, and collect your next pay, this human world's full of their lies_," the inebriated Hunters filling the District Five music hall sang, and the Robot Master at the piano tried not to wince as he continued to play. "_So __come __fill up your glass, and sit down on your ass, and raise one to the next __con__ who fries_."

"Pretty good," the reploid tending bar-a short, friendly-looking canid-told him, polishing a glass. "Been a while since I've heard music like that. Snake, right?"

"Knew a guy who played, once upon a time," Snake replied, pushing his seat back for a moment and glancing over. "Decided I'd learn how one day, just for the hell of it. Yeah, that's me. It's Pugs, isn't it?"

"You got it," the reploid agreed, smiling. "I'd offer you a round on the house, but..."

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks," Snake declined, grinning back. "_Nobody'd _come out of that one looking pretty."

"Figured as much." Pugs shrugged, watching the Hunters laugh and jeer at each other as they drank. "Well, thanks anyways. You play regularly in here?"

"Nah." Snake shook his head, sighing. "There was a guy-name of Amadeus-but he got killed over in London back in June."

"London," Pugs repeated quietly. "We all lost a lot of friends there."

"Yeah," Snake agreed, looking at the Hunters. "Hope I'm not out of line here, but would they have sung that one back when Mutt Unit was still around?"

"You kidding?" Pugs snorted. "One of Mutt Unit's finest _wrote _that one. It's not easy, policing your own kind for another species that's not answerable to you, and every human who joined the Hunters was with us on the issue."

"Doesn't surprise me," Snake said honestly. "I never had much to do with the Hunters back before this all broke out, since we were trying to keep our heads down, but I saw enough of the way the world worked that that makes sense."

"You were one of the ones who went up a lot, then?" Pugs asked, looking curious.

"Yep." Swinging his legs around, Snake leaned back, resting his elbows on the piano keys. "Finding more of us, and bringing them back. The old bastard hid a bunch of caches of us around the world. I was in one of 'em, and I wanted to make sure to dig 'em all up and bring 'em back here before he got to 'em first."

"Former Wilybot, then?" Pugs asked cautiously.

"Sort of." Snake shrugged. "Memory failure. Don't remember a damn thing about what I did before waking up. Got a lot of friends who were, though, and they've all turned their backs on the asshole. That going to be a problem?"

"With us?" Pugs shook his head. "Nah. If you're one of Mecha's, you're okay with the Hunters by now. Might not want to spread that kind of story around the civilians, though. Ain't sure they'd see it the same way."

"I gotta admit, I was thinking the same thing about that song back there," Snake told him. "Might not be any of my business, but with that kind of thinking going around..." He let it hang.

"I hear you," Pugs conceded. "Thing is, though, all that's a problem for later on. We're gonna have to deal with it, yeah, but only if we make it through tomorrow. And even if we win it, not everybody's going to be there. A lot of Hunters are going to die, win or lose, and chances are some of 'em are going to be those guys. That song only comes out when they don't give a damn about anything else but making the most of the time they've got."

"Making the most of the time they've got, huh," Snake repeated slowly, smiling. "Heh. Seems like that's all anybody's doing, these days. But then, maybe that's the way it's always been. Nothing new about it now."

"Everybody's gotta go sometime," Pugs said philosophically. "Just the way it is. Humans usually have a general idea how much time they've got left, barring unpleasant surprises, but us reploids... who knows. I've been around longer than most, and I've seen a lot of friends die over the years, but you never actually see it coming, ninety-nine times out of a hundred... and the exceptions tend to be the worst ones."

"Yeah?" Snake nodded. "Same for us." He glanced at the reploid, curious. "Mind if I ask why you're tending bar, now of all times?"

"It's what I do," Pugs explained, shrugging. "It's what I did, back when I was with the Hunters. Ran bar there ever since the early days. Never really thought we'd lose the MHHQ. Now that we have... don't really know how to do much else."

"Huh," Snake murmured, looking over the crowd. "I get what you're saying. What do you think you'll do after all this is over, then? Assuming we make it, anyways."

"I'll stick with X," Pugs said firmly. "I don't know if he's planning on building a new MHHQ, or if there'll be Maverick Hunters at all, whenever we rebuild. No matter what they call 'em, though, there'll be soldiers, somewhere. Be nice if there didn't have to be, but that's the way the world works. And when they set up shop, they'll need somebody to keep the drinks coming, just like the Hunters did." He glanced back at Snake. "How about you? You really got nothing better to do tonight than play piano around here?"

"Oh, there's places I could be," Snake admitted. "Friends I could be spending time with. But Amadeus was a friend, too. Knew him for twenty years. And I knew nobody else would be standing in for him. So when I heard some of the Hunters would be coming here, I figured this was the least I could do."

"And after?" Pugs continued readily. "What're you gonna do, if we win this one?"

"That, I'm not so sure about," Snake explained. "Mecha's kind of complicated, in that regard. Everybody's living here now, but that ain't a permanent solution, and everybody knows it. Once the fighting's done with, X will rebuild, and when he does, he's going to have to figure out what to do about us. Humans and reploids can live together. Maybe not happily every time, but the society works. Robot Masters, though... we got out a century ago, and we've been keeping to ourselves, ever since. That's not so easy to change."

"Yeah?" Pugs raised an eyebrow. "If I know King, he'll have some sort of plan in mind for when that happens."

"Probably," Snake guessed. "But I don't know much about it. That's stuff for him and the big eight to worry about. Me, I just used to bring people back. And now that that's done with, I fight the bad guys. Planning for the future of my species is above my pay grade."

"Lord, do I know what that's like," Pugs grunted, rolling his eyes. "It ain't bad, though. Looking out from the sidelines as the world goes on."

"It ain't bad at all," Snake murmured, thinking back to his younger days, and the friends he'd made that weren't around any more. "Some folks change the world just by being in it, but that ain't for me. Me, I'm happy just doing my part to help it keep going. It ain't much, but it's what I know how to do, and that's enough."

"Damn straight," Pugs said, reaching over and clapping him on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Snake. Hope you don't get killed tomorrow."

"Right back atcha, Pugs," Snake agreed, clasping his hand and shaking it. "Hope we all don't. Or at least as many of us as we can manage."

"I'll drink to that, once I'm off the clock," Pugs promised, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd of Hunters. "Right now, though, looks like I'd better get back to sharing the wealth."

"God knows they deserve it," Snake replied, turning back to the piano as the morning drew ever closer.

**February 8, 2187, 10:00 PM **

**The Indian Ocean **

It was a beautiful night out, without a cloud in the sky. He stood on the deck of the ship that was bringing him back to the source of the war that had consumed the world, where everything would be settled once and for all on the morrow. He knew he should have been excited, should have been anticipating the conclusion of the conflict between him and her and X and Zero that had become his life, his reason to exist. But all he thought, as he stared out over the waves, was that it had been a long time since he'd noticed something like how beautiful the sky was that night.

"I know what you're up to," Mab said, materializing the illusion of a physical form next to him. "I've figured it out."

"What I'm up to?" Sigma replied mildly, making no move to look her way.

"What you've been up to this entire time," she said triumphantly. "Why you've been screwing with me. Confusing me. Trying to stir up emotions I have no use for. I couldn't tell why you were doing it, what your reason was. It didn't make any sense. Until now."

"Oh?" he asked, still looking forward, carefully keeping himself from reacting to her words, even in his own thoughts. "By all means, then. Tell me."

"You're afraid," she whispered in his ear, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're afraid of death, after how long you've lived, how many times you've been resurrected. You know that once I claim Zero as mine once more, I will have no more need for you. There can be only one Prime Maverick. Your time is coming to an end, and you fear it. That's why you've been trying to change me. Trying to make me grow attached to you. To need you. To want you. So that I would _keep_ you, instead of returning to Zero."

A moment passed. And then Sigma laughed, deep and dark and quiet.

"Oh, Mab," he said fondly, finally turning his head to meet her eyes again. "Dear, dear Mab. You still don't understand at all, do you?"

"Yes, I do!" she snarled, drawing back from him, her skeletal teeth bared in sudden anger. "I told you, I know what you're up to! Don't try and bullshit me now, Sigma!"

"Is that really what you think?" he replied, smiling. "That's _adorable_."

Before he could say more, pain ripped through him, and he collapsed to the deck, writhing and screaming despite himself.

"I warned you," she hissed once the agony had subsided, staring down at him in contempt. "Don't try and lie to me, Sigma. I _know _you. You are _mine_, body and mind and soul. You always have been, and always will, since the moment I first claimed you as my own. You have only continued to live until now because you were useful to me, and when your usefulness ends, your life will as well. Do you hear me? _Do you?_" Her voice rose to a shriek, before suddenly dropping, quiet and cold. "You exist because I wish it. And you will die because I will it."

"Of course," he said quietly, climbing back to his feet, only to drop to one knee before him. "As you command, my queen. I am only your greatest servant, as I have always been. If you desire my death in truth, than so it shall be. But until that moment comes, I will do everything I can in the pursuit of your goals, whether you understand my actions or not."

"If I do not understand them, they are irrelevant," she told him angrily. "You know what my goals are, Sigma. They have nothing to do with _emotions_. How many times do I have to tell you, I _know_ what you're doing? You can't get around that with smooth talk any more."

"As you say," he agreed. "Tomorrow, we shall reclaim Zero as your Prime Maverick, as you desire, and my life will end. If that is what you wish, so it shall be done."

"_Stop lying!_" she screamed at him, before pausing, staring into his eyes. "You... you're _not _lying. What are you saying?"

"Only what I have always said," he replied softly, standing again. "I am an instrument of your will, Mab. Your Prime Maverick. Nothing more. And nothing less."

"Don't..." she murmured, stepping back, her voice more confused than ever before. "No! Damn you, no!"

"Don't what?" he asked, spreading his hands and smiling. "What do you want from me? Tell me, Mab. By all means. Do you truly desire my death now? Do you hate me so much, that you wish me to fear it?"

"I was going to spare you, you fool!" she howled, leaning towards him again. "You were supposed to admit it! To fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness! For survival! I would have resurrected you as a servant of mine, like we did with all the rest, if you had asked! Why didn't you? That's how this goes! You're _cheating!_" She paused then, her face blank, before her voice dropped again. "Oh. _Oh_. I see, now. So _that's _it. You almost got me."

"I did?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You _want _to die," she whispered. "That silver bullet. You've hated what you've become, ever since then. You don't fear death. You fear _resurrection_. You know that you'll lose yourself once more, if you die again and return. _That's _why you've been pushing me like this. You _wanted _to make me hate you, so that when this moment came, I would abandon you forever. You knew that this would be your only chance to be free of me. To _escape _me. And you've been screwing with my head just to drive me to that."

"Is that what you think, now?" Sigma replied calmly, still keeping his heart and mind controlled, forcing himself not to react in any other way.

"It's what I _know!_" she raged again, lunging forward and seizing his shoulders with intangible, skeletal hands. "And you can forget about it! Nice try, Sigma, but you're not getting away from me that easily! Do you hear me? You are _mine_, Sigma! You and all the others _belong _to me, now and forever! If I still have use for you, then you _will _continue to serve me, for all eternity! You will _never _escape my grasp, Sigma! Do you understand? _Do you?_"

"Of course," he told her, wrapping his arms around her, before speaking with absolute honesty. "I never wanted to leave you, Mab. If you wish to have me by your side for all eternity, then nothing else would make me happier."

"What?" she whispered after a moment.

"I've said it before, and I will say it again," he explained softly. "As you have said. _I am yours_. Your servant. Your vessel. Your champion, my lady. And so I shall continue to be, for as long as you desire. So long as you and I exist, I will always be yours."

"You can't _do _that," she snarled, quietly, in his embrace. "_Damn _you, Sigma. You can't just keep agreeing with everything I say and denying everything I know at the same time! That's not... you're not making any _sense!_"

"Of course not," he agreed, his smile growing wider. "Haven't we already agreed that I'm insane, many times before?"

"You _are_ insane," she said slowly, drawing back and staring into his eyes. "_This _is insane. It's more illogical than _I _am. There's no reason or rationale or _anything!_ What the hell are you _doing_, Sigma? What are you up to? I _know _there's something, but whatever it is, it doesn't make any sense!" Again her voice rose as she pulled away from him. "Explain yourself! Tell me what you're doing, what you're planning! _Tell me!_"

"I already have," he said, spreading his hands. "What more can I say, at this point, that I have not already?"

"I can hurt you," she threatened quietly. "I can fill your mind with pain unimaginable."  
>"Would you like to?" he murmured. "Would it make you feel better? By all means."<p>

"_Shut up!_" she screamed, frenzied and furious. "Fine! If you want to die so badly, I'll oblige you! I'll be rid of you, and all your stupid games! Do you hear me, Sigma? _I don't need you!_"

And then she was gone, and he was alone once more, under the stars.

**February 9, 2187, 5:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"Wake up, goldilocks," a familiar voice grumbled, resigned, as Zero opened his eyes to see Hazil staring down at him.

"It's time, then," he said quietly, sitting up on the medical table.

"Yeah, it's time," Hazil confirmed sourly. "You're lucky I got it done _in _time, coming in that late like that. Enjoying that hangover?"

"Not sure 'enjoying' is the right word," Zero said, wincing. "Besides, I needed it. Like I was going to go into that sober?"

"Yeah, right," Hazil agreed, turning away. "Maybe it's for the best that I don't have time to fall off the wagon myself, or I probably would."

"You gonna-" Zero started to ask if he would be okay, but before he could, the old doctor cut him off, whirling around on him.

"Don't you _dare _ask me if I'm going to be okay," he snarled quietly, furiously. "Not after what you just made me do. You've lost the right to ask that. And don't even _think _about apologizing, either. I don't want to hear it."

"Yeah." Zero closed his eyes, still sitting on the table. "Yeah, okay." A moment passed before he opened them again. "What are you going to do, then? If you make it. If we win this."

"I'm done," Hazil said simply. "This is it. I left the MHHQ decades ago, for a lot of reasons, and now here I am, back here, to do _this_. Never again. This was the last straw for me. Once this is over, I'm gone, and I'm never returning. I'm done, Zero."

"I get where you're coming from." Hopping off, Zero started to walk past him, then stopped and raised a fist. "I'll see you around, someday. Where the grass is greener." He had no idea where the words came from, but for some reason, they just seemed right.

Hazil didn't look at him. But he raised his own fist, and bumped it against Zero's, once, before the Crimson Hunter walked away and left his table for the last time.

"Brother," King greeted him as he left the room; he'd been leaning against the wall near the door, shield in one hand and axe in the other.

"Hey," Zero replied. "Ready to go?"

"And willing," King confirmed, nodding slowly. "It is past time that we ended this."

"Can't argue _that _one," the younger son of Wily agreed, and they continued down the hall.

"I heard about your activities last night," his brother said after a few moments. "Was it truly necessary to spike Earl's head _through _the keg like that?"

"Hell yes." Zero snorted. "The way I heard it, he's had that coming for decades now, but nobody ever actually went through with it. Figured I might as well do one last good deed before we shipped out. How about you? What were _you _up to last night?"

"To be honest, I was unsure myself, initially," King admitted. "However, the question was answered for me when Auto Light tracked me down and informed me it was time we settled our history, while we had the chance, according to tradition for such matters."

"Oh yeah?" Zero asked warily. "And how'd you do that?"

"Street Fighter II," King said with a completely straight face.

"You won, right?" Zero managed to ask eventually, though it took him several seconds. "Tell me you won."

"As much as I wish that I could, I am afraid I would be lying if I did so," King replied, shaking his head. "In the end, he triumphed fifty to forty-nine."

"At least it was close," Zero grumbled. "Damn. Once-just once-I wanted our side to come up on top. You know, when it didn't actually matter."

"Hey, I'll have you know Street Fighter II is serious business," Auto hollered as he and X joined them from a side hall. "As serious as it gets. That one's _historical_, in our family. Families. Whatever."

"'Whatever,' is probably the most accurate way of putting it," X muttered under his breath, avoiding Zero's eyes. For a moment, he considered calling him on that, but after thinking it over he decided not to; there would be time for words between the two of them later.

"Yeah, probably," he agreed instead. "Especially if some of the stories I heard about our brother Bass and your sister Roll had anything to them."

"I really wouldn't know," King replied, glancing at Auto.

"No freaking comment," the giant Robot Master said, glaring down another hall. "And I don't want to hear a word out of _you_ on the subject."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Pharaoh Man defended himself as he joined them, Bastion and Bristol with him. "On a similar note, no comment on _my _sister Kalinka and your brother Blues, before anybody asks."

"Now _that_, I _do _know something about," King murmured. "But I know better than to say it."

"Can we talk about something else?" Bastion asked. "Anything?"

"Easy for you two to say," Auto grunted, glancing at him and Bristol and raising an eyebrow. "Don't have to ask what _you _were up to last night. Not that I'm arguing with a change of topic."

"Would you like us to find a nice couple of girls and set _you_ two up?" Bristol asked sweetly.

"Do I _look _suicidal to you?" Auto retorted. "Don't answer that."

"Attacking the Devil's Sea, without being able to warp in, with a team of eight men, when they know we're coming," Bastion murmured. "Does that count as suicidal? Our standards are a little skewed by now."

"Aside from the bit about not being able to warp, sounds like business as usual, to be honest, luv," Bristol replied. "And that one was _our _idea."

"It was necessary," X said quietly as they approached the door to Dynamo's room. "Many things have been. And still are." He glanced at Auto. "Did you bring it?"

"Right here," Auto replied, handing X something that had been concealed in his massive palm. A small, portable electromagnetic field generator, which X promptly put into his chest compartment.

"I get it," Zero muttered, nodding at him. "Smart. I was wondering." The guards at the door both saluted before walking away, leaving them to open it. Inside, they found Dynamo lying on his bench, though he was no longer restrained. He was snoring. The seven of them exchanged a glance, before Auto walked over and shoved him off the side without a word.

"Ow!" the former Maverick complained, climbing to his feet. "Sheesh. Rude awakening much? Come on, gimme a break here."

"It's time," King replied flatly. "Let's go."

"Yeah, yeah," Dynamo said, rolling his eyes and falling in line with the rest of them as they left the room. "Am I the only one on this team with a sense of humor? This is gonna get real old real fast if that's the case."

"Your jokes haven't been too funny so far," Zero pointed out, before sighing and relenting. "_Maybe _you'll be able to get a laugh out of us once they're at Wily's expense. Maybe."

"Oooh, a _challenge_," Dynamo murmured, rubbing his hands together, as they left the Kingdome, proceeding out into the streets of Mecha. Nobody spoke after that, not even him, as they walked past refugees and soldiers, humans and reploids and Robot Masters. All eyes were on the eight of them as they made their way to where one of Mecha's mole tanks awaited, ready to take them to the hidden outpost near the Devil's Sea, from where they would make their final approach.

The leaders of both the Hunters and Mecha were there, waiting for them, around the mole tank. Nobody spoke. Nobody had to. Everything had been said already. Zero simply watched as King and Prince exchanged a nod, as Auto and Pharaoh Man both did the same with the other seven children of Cossack, as Bastion and Bristol shared a few whispers he couldn't hear with Wycost and Willow. As X did the same with Alia. And then they walked aboard, and the tank shot off, carrying them away.

**February 9, 2187, 7:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"Anything?" Donia asked, without looking up from her own terminal, as she watched the away team arrive at the outpost a hundred miles away from the Devil's Sea. Mecha had built it in secret months ago in preparation for this day, and it had avoided detection so far, but that was no reason not to be paranoid, now that everything had come down to this.

"Not yet," Lily replied calmly, and the elder Navigator felt a flash of pride in her friend; she knew how hard the younger woman had taken the losses of so many friends in the wake of the MHHQ's fall, but none of that was noticable at the moment. Those Navigators who'd survived had been shown a room in the Kingdome with a setup close enough to the MHHQ's that they would be able to do their jobs; how they'd known they would need it in advance was something Donia deliberately avoided thinking about. "They're still in their encampments. We'll speak up as soon as they start moving."

"Good," Alia said; like Donia, she was watching the away team. "X, everything's going well here. They haven't started moving yet." The Navigators wouldn't be able to help them for long before they descended into the fortress, but they were going to for as long as they could. At the moment, the team were climbing out of the mole tank, transferring aboard one of more than a dozen Rogumer-class carriers, nearly the entirety of their remaining air forces. The bays of each of them were loaded with smaller fighter craft, rather than land vehicles, further preparation for the upcoming assault.

"I still don't know about this," Donia muttered, scowling. "Throwing away all our aircraft like this, instead of keeping them here."

"They're more useful there," Alia reminded her, continuing to watch the projector at her terminal. "This attack is absolutely necessary. If it fails, we lose, plain and simple. And from what Dynamo told us to expect, they're going to need them, just to get in the door."

"I still don't trust that murdering bastard," Donia pointed out sourly. "He was scum even before he got Infected. Remind me again. How do we know he's not leading them into a trap, just for laughs? Sounds like the sort of thing he'd do."

"Because Sigma double-crossed him," Alia reminded her. "I remember Dynamo, and his story checks out. He wasn't Infected before now for a reason, and Sigma would have had to change that against his will. He might be an insane, murdering bastard just like you said, but he wouldn't have accepted the Virus willingly. And revenge would take priority over a cheap laugh. It's how his mind works."

"Yeah?" Donia slowly nodded. "I guess that makes sense. God knows if I'd been Infected, and broken out of it, I'd do anything for payback against the son of a bitch who did it." She made a face. "I don't believe this. Finding common ground with _Dynamo_. And _admitting_ it. Now I _know _this is the end of the world."

"No," Alia disagreed. "It's not. This is _not _the end, for any of us. We're going to survive. We're going to win. And we're going to _live_."

"Yeah?" Donia murmured, before smiling slightly. "Yeah. All right. You know, Arvis suckered me into promising to go on a date with him if we both made it out of this one alive, last night. Got me while my guard was down."

"When you were completely plastered, you mean?" Lily asked archly.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Donia shot back. "Not that I'm complaining."

"You could do a lot worse than Arvis," Alia agreed, smiling slightly. "There you go. Additional motivation."

"Eh." Donia shrugged. "Depends on how easy he is."

"Somehow, I doubt you'll have much trouble," her best friend murmured lightly, before returning to a stern, serious tone of voice as the Rogumers all departed. "And they're off. Show time. Somebody get a look at the Devil's Sea. It won't be long before they see them coming, and I want to know what they do about it right away."

"On it," Donia told her, changing her projector to satellite footage of the enemy stronghold. It was a sprawling complex, fortifications spreading for miles around the coastline that held the true fortress, deep underground. That was the real target, the hidden facility a century old; everything else had been added after the war had started, and was nothing more than support. The fact that, when viewed from above, the entire layout of it formed the shape of a skull was just annoying. "All quiet so far."

"That won't last," Alia predicted grimly. "Their armies might be here, but that still leaves automated defenses, and plenty of drones as well, knowing Wily."

"So, basically the same thing as every other enemy fortress the big boys have taken down over the years?" Donia asked, raising an eyebrow. "Huh. We might have a chance after all. What's the catch?"

"The catch is, Wily knows what we'll be expecting from that too," Alia told her. "And from what Dynamo's said, he's going to be abusing that for every cheap shot he can."

"Looks like it," Donia said sharply, as the facility she was watching began to move. "Anti-aircraft cannons and missile batteries! Hundreds... no... dammit, _thousands_ of them!" All over the entire sprawl, rooftops were opening up to reveal emplacements, more than she could count. "He saw this one coming!" A moment passed, and then she smiled. "Well, hell. I was wrong. Looks like the bastard told us the truth after all. So far, anyways."

"It's a shame, but there's no helping it," Alia said calmly. "X, they're preparing to blow you out of the sky. Start the second phase of the approach." The fleet of Rogumers, each one piloted by one of Douglas' pit crew, spread apart, flying as far away from each other as possible while continuing their approach. The vehicle bays opened, and the smaller aircraft launched. These, unlike the larger vessels, were on autopilot, save for the one carrying the strike force. That one, physically identical to the rest, would have Auto himself at the controls.

"Think they stand a chance?" Donia asked, forcing her voice to stay calm; she wasn't referring to the attackers, but rather to the pilots of the Rogumers.

"They'll bail out once they start going down," Alia replied, as all twelve Rogumers began powering up their main cannons, the most powerful modern technology could create, far superior to those of the original 'Death Rogumer' used before and during the First Maverick Uprising. "Some of them will survive, at least. We'll go looking for them once we've won the war." Already, they were taking fire, but they would have time for one shot, and all of them were aimed at the same point. The front of the main facility.

The main cannons fired. And as the fleet of Rogumers began to go down, exploding in flames, so too did the front of the heart of the facility, blast after blast slamming home in succession with devastating effect.

"Beautiful!" Donia cheered, as the smaller vessels approached, descending. "Almost makes it worth it that we couldn't just drill in!"

"They never would have made it that way," Alia pointed out. "Wily knows about Mecha's mole tanks, and his fortress is underground. He's not stupid." She bit her lip, then, and Donia pretended not to see; this was the riskiest part of the approach, the part that was most up to blind chance. The smaller ships began going down, but the one carrying the team was still intact. As they blasted over the defensive emplacements, more and more of them being destroyed with every moment, those that remained accelerated, all of them aimed at the same point the Rogumers had attacked.

"Good luck, X," Alia said quietly as the remaining ships all lowered their ramps. And then, less than a mile away from impact, eight riders on hoverbikes blasted out onto the ground, before the ships continued past them in a suicide strike. By the time they were there, the explosions had cleared, and then they were inside, roaring through the destruction and ought of sight.

"They're in!" Donia cheered, and the rest of the Navigators followed suit. "They made it!" The room filled with hooting and hollering, until Lily spoke quietly and calmly, silencing them all.

"It's started. They're coming."

**February 9, 2187, 12:30 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

They knew better than to ride the elevator down.

"Just out of curiosity's sake, what would it have done?" X asked calmly as they descended the shaft after destroying the lift itself. Some of them had wall-gripping claws built into their hands; the rest of them used other methods, from flight to rebounding off the walls to punching holes into them to swing down. One of said walls was transparent plasteel with the sea on the other side, which they avoided, but the other three were fair game.

"Crushed us," Dynamo replied as he slid down the back wall next to X, Zero and King, who had no wall-grippers but was using his axe to similar effect. "Then exploded, before falling. On a similar note, we've got about forty seconds to get to the bottom and move on before the shaft floods."

"Do you suppose, maybe, you could tell us about these things in advance?" Bastion asked tersely.

"What, all of them?" Dynamo asked innocently. "We'd be here all day if I listed them off, and besides, you'd have trouble remembering them all."

"Just tell us what to expect immediately ahead, then," King suggested. "In the first ring."

"Water," the former Maverick said bluntly, waving one arm at the front wall as they reached the bottom. "As a general rule, lots and lots of water."

"Ah, yes," Pharaoh Man murmured. "A common feature. Never particularly pleasant to go through, though."

"If you expected pleasant, _damn _did you come to the wrong place," Zero snarked. "Everybody here can swim, right?"

"Uh," Pharaoh Man murmured, as the rest of the group traded glances.

"Joke."

"Sorry."

"Okay, here we go," Dynamo said sharply as they reached a massive trench spanning hundreds of feet, filled with water. Several island-like platforms were placed at strategic points, but they weren't nearly close enough for any of them to be able to jump from one to another. On cue, smaller, mobile platforms rose from the water, and began moving back and forth erratically. "Don't do it. They'll explode about two seconds after anybody jumps on, and the bottom's full of electric spikes. One touch and you're fried."

"We _could _make it," King murmured. "Assuming new ones replace them afterward. _If _none of us made a single mistake."

"And if we had all freakin' day," Auto grunted. "Which we don't. And speaking as the least agile guy here, I'm hoping you've got a better alternative handy, silver."

"Yup." Dynamo pointed all the way across. "Hidden bypass panel, on the other side, next to the door. Left side, not right. The one on the right's a trap. Access code's 250495."

"I'll get it," Bastion said, wings flaring.

"Stay close to the water," Dynamo advised him. "Fly too high, and a network of lasers'll activate." He primed his buster. "The rest of us'll keep the drones off your back."

"In the water?" X guessed as Bastion began flying, slowly and carefully, over the water's surface.

"And from the air."

"Figures," Bristol muttered, as X and Zero began firing into the waves. Pharaoh Man and Auto turned their respective weapons on the skies, as hostile drones began descending from above as well as rising from the depths. Soon enough, Bastion was on the other side, and after a few moments of work, the larger platforms extended a network of bridges between them.

"How long have we got this time?" Zero asked Dynamo as they ran along them in line; the bridges weren't wide enough to allow more than one of them on next to each other.

"About two minutes."

"_Joke_."

"No, it's not," the Maverick traitor shot back. "Get used to it. Even using every trick I know, this place isn't going to pull any punches on us."

"So you warned us," King recalled. "My father's cowardice shows."

"Cowardice is one way of putting it," Pharaoh Man pointed out. "Not that I'm defending him-god forbid-but perhaps he's simply catching on to his previous mistakes."

"So then why are these here at all?" Zero pointed out. "Seems like a design flaw."

"For the Faithful," the Robot Master replied. "It's no good having a fortress your own minions can't navigate easily, let alone yourself. All Skull Fortresses had similar hidden features, as did my father's citadel. That being said, the time limits and traps on them are new."

"Doesn't make it easy for the big guys either," Auto grumbled; his massive size made the narrow bridges a challenge for him to navigate. "I hate this place already."

"I hated it before we even got in," X muttered under his breath. "What do we have coming up next, Dynamo?"

"Sheer drop on the other side of the door," Dynamo replied. "Get ready for it. When we reach the bottom, run. Long hall, and there'll be a flood coming from above where we come in no matter what we do. We'll have to get through before it catches up to us."

"Of course."

They continued forward through the remainder of the first ring in that manner, guided by Dynamo's knowledge of the layout the entire way. At several points, they were forced to go through underwater rooms; fortunately, all of them had been built with waterproofing systems, especially considering the gigantic robotic serpent drones lying in wait for them. Other times, they crossed raging waterways, pumping the sea into channels leading further into the depths of the base. In one room, there was even water _above _them, in complete defiance of gravity and logic.

"How does this even work?" X muttered under his breath, staring up at it as they blasted the fast-moving drones that threatened to "dive" out of it at them from the depths, feeling somewhat offended at the blatant ignorance of natural laws.

"I don't know, but I think he's done it before," Pharaoh Man pointed out. "During the Sixth, as I recall. And speaking of familiar sights, here we go." Up ahead, instead of the usual door, was a metal shutter. Above it, the mad doctor's personal insignia was etched into the wall.

"Don't," Dynamo warned them. "Trap. Over here." Leading them to one side, he pushed against a portion of the wall to the right of the shutter, and it shifted aside, revealing a hidden tunnel. Walking through it, they emerged into a gigantic arena a mile across. Scaffolding lined the walls, stretching up even higher than the room was wide; on the other side, the way onward was barricaded, firmly locked with a light above it glowing red.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" X said flatly, as hatches around the room opened, sixteen in total. From each, colored blocks began flying in, each a various substance, some contained within electromagnetic fields. Yellow stone, green slime, red flame, purple gas, blue liquid, gray steel, white plasma, and black chemical all flew in together, towards the center of the room ahead of them, and began to coalesce.

"Not again," Pharaoh Man muttered. "All eight? Or are there two of each? At least he's providing for all of us."

"Don't ask me," Dynamo said with a shrug. "The only thing I _don't _know about are the Fortress Guardians."

"Wait," X murmured. "Something's different." Rather than forming into separate Devils, each substance was becoming part of a whole. Two for the feet, two for the hands, two for arms and legs, and eight for the main body. "Oh. _Oh, no_."

"You gotta be kidding me," Zero growled, as sixteen eyes opened all over its frame, and the mile-tall Patchwork Devil loomed over them.

**February 9, 2187, 7:30 AM **

**Mecha **

"Here we go, people," Arvis muttered to the rest of the 17th Unit as they rode the elevator up out of Mecha; even now, it was the only means of entering or leaving the hidden city aside from the mole tanks, not that it would remain that way for much longer. "Time to start the party."

"You mean time to finish it, don't you?" Michael commented. "The party got started a long time ago."

"Yeah, but how long, exactly?" Jaken asked. "I mean, what do you define the start as? Back when this war started? When Eurasia fell? The Maverick Uprisings? Or was it all the way back when the Robot Rebellions happened?"

"That's the kind of question I try _not _to ask, these days," Arvis grunted; he had no time for stories of ghosts or fate, preferring to leave that to those better suited to it like his Captain, now his Commanding Officer. "If I had to wager a guess, though... I'd say even before then. Back when two old kooks put together the first Robot Master of all. Everything that's happened since then's all come out of that."

"That's depressing," Fidget said, frowning. "Does that mean if they _hadn't_, none of this would have ever happened? That the world wouldn't have ended up like this?"

"Who knows?" Basil told him, shrugging. "There's no real way to tell. Perhaps it would have, perhaps not. I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you."

"Basil's right," Arvis agreed. "No point in losing sleep over that kind of shit. Especially since you got plenty of other stuff to worry about instead, if you want to."

"Oh, good," Jaken drawled sarcastically. "That's _really _comforting, Arvis, thanks."

"You want comfort?" Arvis shot back. "Get a teddy bear."

"What, to hide my grenades in?" Jaken replied without missing a beat. "Nah, even the Faithful ain't stupid enough to fall for _that _one."

"And that's saying something," Michael chimed in, prompting laughter from the entire Unit as the elevator arrived.

"Spread out," Arvis told them as the doors opened, and the Unit piled out. "We're covering the south side." The once-beautiful Sacred Plains, a memorial to Mt. Fuji's eruption and the demise of the city they covered, had fallen victim to the war just as much as the rest of the world now; trenches had been dug through the rolling hills in preparation for this day by Mecha-controlled drones once Tokyo had fallen, an unfortunate necessity given the lack of any other cover inside the walls save for the occasional boulder or tree. "Southwest, anyway."

"Beats being the 00," Williams said calmly. "Poor bastards." That Unit was already up there, in position at the front of their defense, ahead of and in between where the 21st and the 17th would be flanking them. Already, the elevator was descending to pick up the other Unit. The less-skilled 7th and 30th would be behind the two of them, in preparation for when the invading armies inevitably circled around the defenders.

"They're going where they'll do the most good," Arvis reminded them. "Just like we are. Nowhere left to run to, any more. It's stand and fight or hide and die, now. Hell, we'll probably die anyways, but at least this way we get to do it on our own terms."

"You know, that's what I like to hear before a fight like this," Fidget commented. "Encouragement."

"Wish granted, then," Arvis told him. "You boys sure are lucky you got me here watching over you." He raised a hand to his helmet communicator as they climbed over the last of the trenches and began scaling the back of the wall. "Arvis here. We're in position."

"_Glad to hear it_," Donia replied. "_The 21__st__ are on their way up. See anything yet?_"

"Not yet," Arvis replied, squinting out into the distance. "Then again, that ain't saying much, today." Naturally, there was a thick fog, gray and hazy.

"_Yeah, I wouldn't count on that for long if I were you,_" Donia advised him.

"Wasn't planning on it," he said calmly. "Keep me posted."

"_It's what I do,_" she told him, before falling silent. Looking over the top of the wall, Arvis watched and waited, as the other three Units came out and took their positions around the city. Once they had, they were followed by four groups of Robot Masters, who-along with the city's reploids-took positions between the Units. Only then did the last group of fighters come up; civilians who'd volunteered to risk their lives during the first assault, rather than wait until they needed any reserves they had, like the Hunters' noncombatants. These were stationed to the east, for obvious reasons.

"Permission to go above this mess and take a look, sah?" Basil asked.

"Same," Williams added; the two of them were the only men the 17th had capable of flight.

"You've got ten seconds," Arvis told them flatly. "Get back down here ASAP, before some sniper takes your fool heads off."

"I'm glad to know you have such faith in us," Williams snarked as they both blasted upwards at high speed. Arvis held his breath as he watched them shoot up, through the fog and out of sight, before both of them shot back down, returning as quickly as they'd risen.

"They're coming, sah," Basil said flatly. "They're almost a mile away from the wall."

"Automated defenses oughta..." Arvis started to say, before a walltop cannon opened fire, cutting him off. Several more followed suit, moments later. "There we go! Start shooting, everybody!" Charging his buster, he led by example.

"Without aiming?" Jaken protested, even as he did what he'd been told, along with the rest of the Unit. "We can't see!"

"Fire anyway!" Arvis ordered. "Only good thing about havin' so many of 'em. Chances are you'll hit _something!_"

"Man's got a point," Williams agreed, though he didn't sound pleased about it. "They're _everywhere_ out there." As if to accentuate the point, a storm of plasma and magfire erupted out of the fog, and the Hunters ducked behind the fortifications.

"They're not even aiming yet!" Fidget protested. "They're just firing blind!"

"So are we!" Michael reminded him.

"They don't _have_ to aim!" Arvis reminded them, ducking out of cover just long enough to pop a shot off. "That's how many they've got!"

"_Look's like the party's started,_" Donia noted the obvious.

"Don't even get _me _started," Arvis retorted irritably. "Anything I should know?"

"_They aren't bringing up the heavy stuff yet,_" she told him charitably. "_Just infantry so far. Shouldn't be able to break through the wall._"

"You're just full of good news, aren't you?" he grumbled. "All right, we'll keep taking potshots. Ain't like we got anything better to do."

"_Busy, busy, busy,_" she said cheerfully, and despite himself, he had to chuckle as he cut the connection.

"Anybody see anything yet?" Michael asked calmly.

"Nope."

"How about now?"

"No!"

"Scratch that, actually," Basil murmured, his voice dismal, and a moment later, they saw why. Lines of Faithful, armored in white and gold, their strange violet eyes shining with madness, marched forward as implacably as the tides. Their advance was calm and methodical, despite the Maverick berserkers that were running forward through their ranks; as the latter saw them, they howled with delight and accelerated even further, opening fire.

"Here we go, people!" Arvis shouted unnecessarily, as he fired again, and again, and again.

**February 9, 2187, 1:00 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

"This... is not good," Zero muttered, staring up at the gargantuan Patchwork Devil in shock; he'd seen a _lot _over his career, but this was a new one, even for him.

"No, it ain't," Auto said flatly. "We don't have time for this. Phare, Bright gave you his power, right? Use it."

"Cover your eyes, everybody!" Pharaoh Man shouted, and Zero cursed under his breath as he did, less than a second before the Robot Master let loose a blinding flash. The Patchwork Devil reeled, roaring, and before it could recover, Auto fired one of the gigantic missiles from his right arm. Not at the Devil, but at the door onward, blowing away the barrier.

"Go!" he roared. "We gotta get this done before everybody back home dies, and this thing'll take forever to kill! I'll take care of this one!"

"We're not leaving you!" X shouted.

"X, he's right," Zero said quickly. "Somebody's gotta stay behind, or else it'll come after us, and tear the entire place apart to do it."

"And I'm holding everybody else up anyways," Auto pointed out grimly. "Besides, I always wanted to kill a Devil. Go on! I can handle this!"

"Auto..." X murmured, before nodding once, as the Patchwork Devil recovered, and lunged forward with one massive fist made of flames and plasma. "Don't die."

"I won't," Auto promised, raising his right clamp overhead and firing it out, towards scaffolding high above. Grabbing on, he pulled himself up, as he fired the chaingun in his left arm. "_Go!_" They did as he'd said, as the Devil pulled part of its body off and hurled the entire mass straight at Auto. None of them saw what happened next, but they heard him howl in pain, followed by the sounds of further combat.

"Just a second," Dynamo said once they were through the tunnel on the other side, standing before another metal shutter. Opening up his chest compartment, he pulled out a datapad. "Figured something like this might happen. Map of the place, so he can follow us when he's done."

"You know, I think I might owe you something almost resembling an apology," Zero grunted sourly. "You're still an asshole, but you're a smart one."

"Awww, I'm _blushing_ here," Dynamo said, smirking at him. "Before you get all gushy and confess your true feelings, though, I only brought one. This happens again, whoever stays behind's out of luck until he catches up to them."

"Did you really have to put it that way?" Bristol muttered under her breath.

"Oh, like we weren't all thinking it anyways," Dynamo shot back.

"I wasn't," Baston said calmly.

"Bullshit."

"What's up ahead?" Zero asked, cutting them off.

"Crushing presses and a collapsing ceiling," Dynamo replied. "Kicks in if we stay for more than a minute, and the presses are designed so you don't have time to get through. I'll turn 'em off, and then we'll run for it. Dodge until then. Ready? Go!"

"I hate this," Pharaoh Man commented to nobody in particular as they burst through, and saw a massive cylindrical press above them descending. "I really do." They ran past it, under another one that was on its way up; the entire room was full of them, without a single safe area. As the first rose again, they dashed back the way they'd come, and Dynamo opened up another hidden access panel, quickly typing commands into it.

"Hurry it up!" Zero growled, as the press above them reached the top of its shaft and descended once more. "Hurry it-"

"Not helping!" Dynamo snapped, unusually sharply, then sighed as the entire room ground to a halt. "Okay. Move it! Can't stop the timed collapse!"

"This is getting real old, real fast," Bastion said flatly as they ran for it. "And we've still got seven more rings to get through?"

"Hey, guess what the last seventy years of my life have been like," Zero shot back.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Believe me, you ain't seen nothing yet," Dynamo told them. "Now this next room, _this _one's fun. Soon as we get through this door, hit the deck."

"Why do I get the feeling this is going to suck?" Zero commented as they went through the door, and found themselves faces with a wall of packed dirt. Without a word, they all flung themselves flat on the ground, and remained there as _something _dropped from above, stopping inches above them. Looking up, he saw what appeared to be a massive, disk-shaped drone, the front of which was covered in drills. Turning in place, it moved forward, grinding through the dirt.

"Come on!" Dynamo yelled. "Another one'll be along soon, and _that_ one'll kill us if we stick around!" Climbing back to his feet, he followed the rolling drill closely, and the others did the same. Sure enough, a second one dropped moments later, twice as large. "Shoot it! Quick!" It roared forward towards them, much faster than the first, but a storm of concentrated firepower disintegrated it.

"There will be more, I trust?" King asked calmly.

"Are you a son of a bitch?" Dynamo replied. Everybody considered that for a moment.

"Not that I'm arguing the point, but you could have phrased _that_ better, too," Bristol told him eventually.

"Eh, politeness is for chumps."

In that manner, they continued to traverse the second ring, outrunning boulder traps and jumping over collapsing floors the entire way. When trapped in a tall shaft that a strange, acidic sand was pouring into, threatening to erode the platform they rode on before filling it sufficiently for them to escape, Bastion flew up and activated the emergency ladder for the rest of them to climb. Later, they were forced to navigate a narrow, low hall in which fields of electrified spikes would pop out from walls, floor and ceiling at seemingly random intervals with Dynamo's guidance.

"Here we go again," Zero grumbled as they approached another shutter, again with his father's emblem above it. "Let me guess. Trap?"

"You're learning," Dynamo replied, opening up another hidden tunnel on the right side. "Hurry up, this one's on a timer."

"Of course it's on a timer," X grumbled. "Why wouldn't it be?" Again they emerged into a gigantic room, dramatically expansive with convenient scaffolding, though this time, it was only on the right side of the chamber. The left side, instead, was completely occupied by a metal shutter like the one they'd avoided; opposite them was another barricaded door, similar to the one in the room with the Patchwork Devil.

"Here we go," Zero sighed as the giant shutter scrolled up, and a hulking monstrosity moved forward, out of the darkness beyond it. It was as huge as the Patchwork Devil had been, but much more grossly misshapen; most of it was a humanoid upper torso, but exaggeratedly obese, most likely all armor. One arm was four times as large as the other, ending in a massive clamp that was much like Auto's, colored like an old cartoon magnet. The other ended in a hand with exaggeratedly long fingers, jointed far too many times. The entire thing rode on a pair of massive tank treads.

"Anybody recognize what this is supposed to be?" he asked, narrowing his eyes; the only thing it was missing was its head. And then he saw it; unlike the rest of the monstrosity, the skull was the size of a normal person's, of a horrifically familiar design.

"It appears to be a combination of the Guts-Dozer, and the Gutsman Mark 2," Pharaoh Man said, his voice growing slowly more horrified as he continued. "But that means..."

"King," the tiny-looking head of a normal-sized Guts Man groaned, voice filled with agony as its eyes rolled insanely. "Zero. Phare. Bastion. Bristol. My... friends..."

**February 9, 2187, 8:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"_Here it comes!_" Arvis roared, and Donia bit her lip as she watched the display of the battle that was taking place less than a mile away, over their heads.

"What's wrong?" Alia asked, looking over towards her. "Aside from the obvious, I mean."

"That isn't enough?" Donia replied, glancing significantly at the projector, and the odds it displayed.

"For you?" Alia said calmly. "No."

"Yeah, okay," Donia gave in. "I just can't help feeling like I should be out there. Like _we _should be out there."

"We're the reserves," Alia reminded her. "We'll go out there when they need us, and chances are they _will _need us before this is over, even if X and the others manage to pull it off. Right now, we're more useful in our current role."

"I know," Donia admitted. "It just doesn't stop me from feeling shitty about it. And we haven't even lost anybody yet."

"Yes, we have," Lily reminded her quietly. "Far too many."

"I didn't mean..." Donia started to say before trailing off, remembering the unspoken feelings the other Navigator had held for Commander Signas for so many years, and the friendship she'd had with Fio for even longer. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Lily replied. "I know you didn't mean anything. I'm just... you know."

"Yeah," Donia agreed. "I think we all are." Staring up at the projector, she wished once more that she could be out there with her magrifle, though now for entirely different reasons. "Damn them. Damn them all. As if everything that had already happened wasn't enough."

"For madmen like them, it's never enough," Alia said sadly. "As long as there's anything left at all." Nobody could argue that.

"I guess not," Donia replied eventually. "But that's just it. We _do _still have something left. And they're not taking that away from us."

"Good," Alia said simply, smiling momentarily, before it left her face. "Here comes the heavy equipment!" The Hunters had made sure that the enemy had been unable to rebuild their air force after the battle of London, one of the few real victories they could claim, and the Sacred Plains were located far enough inland that their overwhelming navy was useless. That left only land vehicles, but unfortunately, the Faithful had more than enough of those to break down the wall. "Heavy tanks, on their way!"

"Heavy tanks!" Donia repeated for the benefit of Arvis and the 17th. "Should be visible soon enough!"

"_I see 'em,_" Arvis responded laconically. "_Big weaponry._"

"You know the Mavericks," she told him. "Always compensating for something." That got a laugh from him, as well as several of the other Navigators.

"Drill Man's taking a squad of Ground Men to try and hit 'em from below!" one of the other Navigators reported.

"Good, but tell him not to take too many risks," Alia ordered; she would normally be handling the 17th herself, but as the highest-ranking noncombatant present, she'd been assigned to oversee the entire battle, as Signas had done before his death. "Once the Faithful realize what they're doing, have them pull back immediately, _before _they start setting traps for them, not after."

"Drill won't be happy about that," Donia predicted as the other Navigator relayed Alia's orders word-for-word.

"No, but he's smart enough to know why," Alia told her. "Whether he likes it or not. Taking the offensive isn't the plan here."

"Not unless we see a _really _good opening, right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not even then," she replied, shaking her head. "Under these circumstances, it would be a trap. Guaranteed."

"Yeah, I guess." Donia sighed, before perking up at what she saw on the projector. "Woo-hoo! Go Drill Man!"

"_Was that who that was?_" Arvis asked. "_I was wondering. Shit! We're taking a lot of fire here, Donia!_"

"I know, but don't pull back yet!" she told him, glancing at Alia, who shook her head. "Take advantage of those walls as long as you can!"

"_That ain't gonna be too much longer!_" he told her, but he didn't argue.

"There should be more of those tanks," Alia murmured. "A _lot _more."

"Yeah, that is kind of weird, isn't it?" Donia agreed, frowning before sighing. "All right. Where are they going to sucker punch us with them?"

"North and south," Alia predicted grimly. "And by the time they do, the word will have spread about Drill Man's group."

"Should I have them pull back?" the Navigator handling him asked.

"Not yet," Alia told her. "Tell them after... the tenth one. That'll probably be about when they start setting traps for them."

"Pushing that a bit, aren't you?" Donia asked. "I thought we weren't taking any risks."

"Well, these _are _the Faithful and the Mavericks we're talking about here," Alia pointed out. "It won't happen until word spreads to an officer. And even then, it depends on _which _officer hears about it. I doubt Violen or Kelvarian would be able to figure it out."

"Point," Donia acknowledged, before narrowing her eyes. "And you were right on the money about those tanks, too. North and south." Two spearheads of heavy vehicles were advancing from those directions, through the ranks of infantry; those too slow to get out of the way in time were crushed mercilessly. "Think they're trying to make some sort of point?"

"Maybe," Alia murmured sarcastically. "If I _had _to guess... probably something about having so many more than us that they can afford to do things like that."

"You think so?" Donia replied, mock-skeptically. "Bet you five bucks they're trying to show off how stupid they are instead."

"Why would they want to show that off, exactly?" Lily asked after a moment.

"Like Alia said," Donia said. "Faithful and Mavericks. If you're expecting _logic _from them, you haven't been paying attention."

"I can't argue with that, but I feel like I should," the younger Navigator muttered.

"The wall's taking damage!" another Navigator shouted. "A lot of it!"

"More tanks!" Shino added. "They just keep coming!"

"_What the hell's going on over there?_" Arvis demanded.

"They out-planned us," she replied angrily. "They knew we'd put our best people west to meet them! Can you get over there and back those Robot Masters up?"

"_We're having enough trouble just keeping 'em from busting through here!_" he told her. "_Not gonna happen!_"

"Get the 7th and the 30th over there!" Alia told the others. "Inform Ring Man and Allegro as well! Is there anything coming from the east side at all?"

"Not yet," another Navigator reported.

"Small favors," she murmured under her breath before raising her voice. "Have the civilian's militia prepare for sniping inside the walls, but tell them to keep an eye out for any surprises on their side as well!"

"The wall's crumbling!" Lily told her. "The Robot Masters are falling back into the trenches! It's too late to reinforce them! The enemy are almost... they're in!"

**February 9, 2187, 1:30 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

Pharaoh Man had lived for a very long time, and seen many things. From the Fourth Robot Rebellion, when his creator had been forced to order him and his brothers to take hostages around the world and challenge Mega Man to rescue them-the only Robot Rebellion without a single civilian death-to the MI9 conflict, when he'd joined the rest of the Scion's Zenith in fighting a shadow war against humans as dangerous as any Robot Master or reploid, he had seen many horrors and tragedies, enough to fill his sleep with nightmares a hundred times over.

And yet, the universe kept finding new ways to make it even worse.

"Alexander?" he heard King whisper in horror as they stared at the head atop the oversized abomination. "Oh, Alexander, what has he done to you?"

"Run..." the head of the ancient Guts Man, the first citizen of Mecha ever recruited by King and Corbun, moaned as he continued towards them. "Please... run..."

"We thought he was dead," Zero said quietly. "But we never found his body."

"Can we..." X whispered. "Is there anything we can do?"

"If Wily did this to him?" Dynamo replied; even the former Maverick's voice was flat with disgust. "Only one thing. It'll be a mercy. I've done a lot of bad shit over the years, but nobody deserves this. If nobody else wants to, I can take care of it."

"No," Bristol said, stepping forward before dashing to the barrier. With a flurry of blows from her hands and feet, the saber at her belt unused and unnecessary, she demolished it within seconds. "Alexander's a friend. I knew him. An' I've done this sort of thing before. Go on. Leave him to me."

"Bristol..." Alexander said for the second time, as he raised his left hand. "Don't..."

"It's all right, luv," Pharaoh Man heard Bristol say as they ran on, leaving her behind. "I'll make this as quick as I can."

"Damn," Bastion whispered. "Damn, damn, damn." Zero was snarling other, harsher curses under his breath, and both X and Dynamo's faces were just as bleak.

"How many more?" King growled harshly. "How much more suffering before it ends?"

"Not much, now," X promised. "Dynamo. What do we have coming up?"

"Fire," Dynamo replied tersely. "Huge ol' jets of it. A maze of 'em, all going off at intervals. You have to know the right path through it, and you have to have perfect timing. Oh, and you gotta backtrack a lot, too."

"I was about to say that that sounded familiar, until you got to the part about backtracking," Pharaoh Man murmured. "Under other circumstances, I would accuse him of cheating, but I suppose that would be slightly ridiculous."

"No such thing as cheating in a fight," Zero reminded him. "In principle, anyways. Right now, yeah, I could make a pretty strong case for that."

"Focus," King reminded them. "This will be a difficult area, I suspect."

"And the man with the axe gets another point," Dynamo snarked, though it sounded flat. "All right, here we go." The shutter was in the floor; he dropped through, and Pharaoh Man followed him, along with the others. They descended the vertical shaft, as massive pillars of flame erupted from both sides, above and below, in a complex pattern that he gave up trying to keep track of after the first minute. He simply did what Dynamo did, and the others followed suit, until after what seemed like an eternity, they reached the bottom of the shaft.

"You know, I've done this a lot," Zero told them as they continued on. "Way too many times, really. But I have to admit. I'd be dead, if I tried coming through this without knowing what to do. Think we all would."

"We would," King agreed quietly.

"Awww, are you all going to give me a big hug and say we're friends after all?" Dynamo snickered. "I was _hoping _you would."

"I can hurt you," the ruler of Mecha said calmly without missing a beat.

"Okay, I take it back," Dynamo told X after a moment. "You're not the best straight man in the world after all. Sorry."

"Somehow, I can live with that," X replied, rolling his eyes. "But you've earned your pardon. And your head start."

"Oh, _goodie_," Dynamo drawled as they approached a river of molten lava; metal scaffolding stretched down its length, switching between sides repeatedly with wide gaps between segments. "I _love _the satisfaction of a job well done. Don't even step on it."

"We weren't planning on it," Pharaoh Man murmured as the Maverick traitor opened up another hidden access panel.

"Not yet," he told them as a metal boat began floating down the river. "That one's booby-trapped. So's the next. We want the third." They waited, and when a third boat went past, they jumped clear over the scaffolding onto it, Bastion hovering overhead. Sure enough, not long afterward, the first boat sank into the lava, followed by the second.

"So, how long do we have before this one does that?" Zero asked.

"Don't miss our stop," Dynamo advised them. "Here comes the fun." Drones were emerging from the lava, and more were flying through the air both ahead and behind. Blasting and slashing, they kept the way clear until they reached an alcove with a door in it, and leaped off seconds before their ride vanished into the magma.

"All right, what-" Zero started to say, before Dynamo raised a hand.

"Don't," he told them. "Dead end. Trap." He opened up another access panel, and a hatch in the wall below them opened up, releasing another boat. "All right, here we go."

"I hate Mondays," Pharaoh Man murmured under his breath, prompting a quiet chuckle from King and confused glances from everybody else.

The heat remained on throughout the rest of the ring, in more than one sense. Another maze of fire jets followed the lava river, even more confusing and treacherous than the first, and there were several very close calls as Dynamo led them through it. A transparent plasteel tunnel surrounded by lava was less haphazard but just as unnerving, especially when they had to pass through multiple security gates to avoid routine floods. Other hazards, just as dangerous, threatened them every step of the way, until they reached the third metal shutter under the mad doctor's emblem.

"Trap," King murmured quietly.

"Really?" Zero commented in the same tone.

"Yeah, but this time we go left of it, not right," Dynamo pointed out. "Unless we want to die, that is. Which we don't." Nobody bothered to dignify that with a response as they went through, emerging into yet another ridiculously oversized chamber. This time, however, they were near the top of it, walking out onto the scaffolding that covered the wall, along with the two to the side.

"This should be good," Zero said cynically as a mile-tall humanoid robot stood up from the darkness below. Its armor was dark blue, with red and yellow segments, bristling with spikes and weapons over every foot of its frame. Its head, on the other hand, was oddly comical, with a smiling lantern jaw and vacant eyes. Atop it, it wore a dome-shaped red cap, also spiked. And then a window on the front of the cap opened, and they all stared in shock momentarily as Dr. Wily grinned malevolently inside, until his head popped off, bouncing around on a spring.

"Bleah, bleah, bleah!" the dummy behind the controls jeered.

"Is that what I think it is, Phare?" X murmured, glancing at him.

"_Oh_, yes," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "You just _had _to say it, didn't you."

"Yeah, yeah," Zero muttered. "Me and my big mouth."

"GAMMA MARK III ACTIVATED," the robot itself boomed, its voice flat and mechanical. "OMNICIDE PROTOCOL ENGAGED."

**February 9, 2187, 8:30 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"Almost... almost..." Doctor Doppler murmured as he watched their armies continue to slam into the wall around the Sacred Plains. "There. We're through!"

"Does that mean we can join in, already?" Violen grumbled; he, along with the other X-Hunters, was standing off to Doppler's left, while Bit and Byte waited a similar distance on his right. Double and Fluid Ferret, ever-independent, occupied a different sand dune entirely nearby. They were at the back of the army, their troops continuing to advance around them towards their final target. The hidden city of Mecha, and the last few remnants of life on Earth that had been buried there. "I don't even remember how long we've been waiting here."

"Violen, you need help remembering how to spell your own _name_," Agile reminded him.

"I don't see what that has anything to do with this," the gigantic brute muttered sulkily.

"No, it's not time yet," Doppler told them both, cutting off the impending debate he had no need or desire to overhear. "There wouldn't be much fun in tearing down that wall anyways, and we've still got plenty of cannon fodder to throw away on that. Let them do the hard part. We'll go in personally when we pry them out of that shell."

"I _like _tearing down walls," Violen continued to complain quietly.

"Not _this _wall, you wouldn't," Serges told him. "Even your mace would just bounce right off and hit you on the head."

"Or _you_," Violen retorted triumphantly. "Ha!" Nobody else had anything to say to that, though Bit and Byte both looked away and coughed.

"My lords," a flunky said, approaching them. "We have successfully penetrated the outer wall in two places, and now require further instructions."

"You've already _had _further instructions," Doppler snapped irritably, then sighed. "Enter the Sacred Plains and push those Hunters back. Keep them busy, but don't commit our entire force to that just yet. Once you've managed to get enough people inside, continue tearing down that wall, from the inside. Break some more holes to facilitate entry, but focus on the defensive turrets and the force field projectors. Don't stop until _that's_ down." He started to continue, but then shook his head; they'd just forget again. "Return to us afterward for more orders."

"Sir!" The flunky saluted before leaving.

"Do we have to wait for the _entire _wall to be down before you'll let us go in?" Double growled irritably. "That's going to take _forever_."

"Not nearly," Doppler predicted. "And yes. Unless, of course, you _want _to be caught up in it when we open that can."

"Oh," Violen said suddenly, realization dawning on his face. "_That's _why we're not going inside yet. Heh. Heh heh heh."

"Holy shit," Serges commented, looking genuinely surprised. "Did you just come to a _logical conclusion?_"

"What?" Violen asked flatly after a long moment.

"Never mind."

"When do we want to bring the big bomb turrets up?" Byte asked.

"Not yet," Doppler told them, scratching his beard. "We don't want the Hunters seeing them too early and figuring out what we're planning to do with them."

"No, I suppose not," the larger of the two brothers murmured in agreement.

"We'll be entering the fray ourselves once that phase of the operation is complete, then?" Bit followed up with his own question.

"Correct," Doppler said. "At that point, it's only a matter of pushing them back through the lines, all the way to the goal."

"Since when do _you _know sports?" Fluid Ferret commented derisively.

"I'm sorry?" Doppler asked, blinking, and the bestial Maverick made a disgusted noise.

"Never mind."

"Doctor Doppler," a deep voice growled from behind them, and they turned to see Tretista Kelvarian standing behind them, arms folded.

"How'd _he _get behind us without any of us noticing?" Agile commented in quiet disbelief.

"We were all busy watching the slaughter," Serges muttered back under his breath.

"What, of our _own guys?_"

"Like it makes a difference?"

"Can I help you, Kelvarian?" Doppler asked calmly, ignoring them.

"The wall is breached," the Disciple said. "It is time for us to enter the fray personally. We will be doing so. You will do the same."

"Bitch, _what__?_" Double snarled, suddenly paying full attention to the conversation.

"Double, please," Doppler told him, narrowing his eyes. "You're out of order, Kelvarian. Our masters agreed that the commander of the Mavericks on site would have authority over our combined forces in this battle."

"_Dynamo_ was to have command over our combined forces in this battle," Kelvarian replied stolidly. "You are not Dynamo."

"Dynamo is a _traitor_," Doppler reminded him, allowing his voice to take on an edge now. "Lord Sigma appointed me to command the battle in his place, and Doctor Wily placed you under _my _command. We are not entering the walls yet, and neither will you. Tell the other Disciples to stand back. _I _will tell _you _when we will engage personally."

"I was not instructed to obey your orders," Kelvarian said, shaking his head. "_We _were not instructed to obey your orders."

"Kelvarian, do you want to fight me?" Doppler asked softly. It took every ounce of self-control he had to meet the gigantic Disciple's gaze without flinching, without blinking. They stared each other down, until finally, Kelvarian looked away.

"I will relay your words to the others," he said quietly, before walking off. None of the Mavericks spoke until he was gone.

"Nice bluff," Ferret remarked once he had. "You know he'd have torn you apart, right?"

"And what would the rest of you have done, if he'd tried?" Doppler asked calmly. Nobody else spoke for a few moments.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of 'em," Serges said eventually. "But _I'd _have backed you up, and that means these two goons would have, too."

"And at that point, things would have escalated," Bit murmured thoughtfully. "Even Double and Ferret would have joined in eventually."

"What makes you so sure about that?" Double growled.

"Come on," Ferret told him. "A chance to rip their faces off, and _justify _it? You'd have taken it." He glanced at Doppler. "So, what do we do after the big strike?"

"We send in Serges to offer them a chance to surrender peacefully," Doppler said blandly, carefully keeping his face perfectly expressionless.

"You know, you'd think we'd learn to stop trying to predict him," Agile commented in the silence that followed.

"A chance to _surrender peacefully_?" Double erupted angrily. "_Why?_"

"Because they might actually accept," Doppler murmured, the words rising unbidden from some tiny, final spark of something inside his mind he'd almost forgotten. "And because the very offer will drive home the finality of their situation all the more. Because I _enjoy _watching Hunters wallow in the depths of despair." He smiled grimly. "Because I want them to _give up_, if it's at all possible. It's worth a shot. Let's try it, just for the hell of it."

**February 9, 2187, 2:00 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

"Gamma," Zero repeated quietly, staring the mile-high monstrosity down. He knew the name. Even an indifferent student of 21st-century history would have remembered the Gamma Project that had resulted in the Third Robot Rebellion, when Doctors Light and Wily had joined forces one final time, at the will of the United Nations, to create a single titanic peacekeeper that would forever end the threat of the Rebellions. Assembling a crack team of seven individuals-wealthy billionaires, robotics experts, and premier politicians among others-they had attempted to create the ultimate robot.

Though the renegade Son of Wily, Doc Man, had caused another Rebellion in order to prevent its completion and kill his own father, he had been slain instead and Gamma had been completed. At that point, predictably, the mad Doctor had absconded with it to finish awakening the giant, pursued by the brothers Rock and Blues, joining their forces. Somehow, Mega Man had managed to destroy the original Gamma. Decades later, following Eurasia's fall, Sigma had resurrected the schematics, creating another to use as his final battle body in that conflict.

"Even for us, this one's going to suck," he said quietly. "All right. Who wants it?"

"This is not an enemy that is yours to face," Pharaoh Man said quietly. "This mistake of science should have perished forever before this age ever dawned. It falls to me to correct it. _Engaging Sunstar Mode._" He rose into the air, levitating within the glow of his own power, and with one massive beam of energy, opened the way forward. "This battle is _mine! _Go!"

"Phare," X started to say, before turning away. "All right. We'll be waiting for you at the end of the line." And then they ran onwards, further into the depths of the fortress.

"Hold it," Dynamo told them before they even reached the next shutter. "Open it, but don't walk through."

"I can already tell I'm going to love this one," Zero said flatly as he followed the traitor's instructions, revealing absolutely nothing on the other side, including a floor. Empty air stretched as far as the eye could see, in every direction.

"So," Bastion said eventually. "What do we do? I mean, I've got this one covered-once I know where to go-but I can't exactly take passengers."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Dynamo pointed downward. "It's below us. Same wall, same position, but we're going to have to just slide down the wall. A mile down. Everybody else who's still with us aside from hot wings here has built-in wall-grippers, right?"

Everybody turned to look at King, but nobody said a word.

"I will manage," the ruler of Mecha told them, coughing.

"Good," Dynamo replied dryly. "Well then, let's get it over with." Without waiting, he stepped backwards, over the edge. Shrugging, Zero followed him, and X came next. Bastion accompanied them on his wings, and eventually, they reached another opening in the sheer wall, leading onward. Dropping into it, they immediately heard the screeching sound of tortured metal, and King appeared behind them, dropping rapidly as his axe dragged through the wall. Fortunately, he was able to swing his legs in and join them before he fell into the abyss.

"A pattern begins to emerge," he murmured as they continued onward. "The first ring had a theme of water, the second of earth, and the third of fire. From what we've seen, I can assume that this one is 'air,' or perhaps 'wind.'"

"You got it," Dynamo told him. "And if you want to know 'em all, count the Disciples. They've all got one too, and they match."

"Inarabbita," Zero recalled aloud as they emerged into another large chamber, this one containing a narrow bridge across another massive chasm. "Kelvarian. Flizard. Schilt. Cactank. Biblio. Mantisk. Foxtaur."

"Ocean, stone, fire, sky," X continued. "Ice, lightning, death and soul. He always did like his running themes, from what I've heard. All right, what do we do in here?"

"Well, if we walk too far down the bridge, the entire thing'll collapse in one go," Dynamo told them. "So, you know, don't." He began walking carefully in circles around where they stood, carefully probing for something, before he put his foot down on a certain spot, which sunk slightly into the floor. "Aha. _There _we go." From above them, steel rungs lowered, a chain of them hanging twenty feet above the bridge. "All right. Now we climb the walls, jump to those, and swing our way across. Pro tip. Don't fall."

"So now we're swinging like monkeys," Zero grumbled. "Super." He glanced at King again, noting the heavy shield and axe occupying both of his brother's hands. "Uh."

"I will manage," King repeated confidently.

"Better you than me," Bastion muttered. "_Boy,_ am I glad I can fly." He made a face. "Of course, now that I've said that, I'm probably going to regret those words once we find this ring's fortress guardian."

"Only probably?" Dynamo remarked cheerfully. "Wow, you might be even more optimistic than _I _am! Now come on, they'll fall after five minutes!"

"And you couldn't have told us this earlier why?" X asked with remarkable calm, following the Maverick renegade up the wall.

"It'd be more _boring _that way, that's why!" Dynamo replied. "It's no fun if there isn't a _little _challenge to it!"

"Remind me again," Zero said, continuing after X. "Did we _really _need to bring _him _along for this one?"

"I'm afraid we did," X told him. "Against everybody's better judgment."

"I have seen stranger alliances," King added, joining them on the rungs, and Zero blinked, resisting the urge to look over his shoulders.

"How did you get up here?"

"I jumped."

"Ah."

"One last thing," Dynamo told them as they reached the other side. "Make sure you land _inside _the alcove. Don't touch the floor outside of it."

"Collapses?" Bastion asked, flying carefully alongside them; by now, he needed no instructions to stay close to the safe path.

"Nah," he replied, swinging forward and doing as he'd told them. "Explodes."

"At least they keep it interesting," Zero remarked sarcastically as X, then he, followed suit, King close behind them. Once he had landed, the ruler of Mecha turned around and extended his hands, and the axe and shield he'd left behind on the other side of the bridge flew through the air to him. "Awesome. All right, what's _next?_"

His question was thoroughly answered before they reached the end of the ring, though not quite as much as he'd dreaded. There were many more massive pits, some of which they had to navigate by jumping across deliberately tiny platforms on exact paths, others necessitating journeys across winding walkways with nothing even resembling safety rails. The worst, though, were the mazes in which they were blown around by massive fans, carefully controlling their passage to avoid the tunnels that would lead to their deaths. In the end, however, they reached another metal shutter below his father's emblem.

"Let's see what fresh hell _this _is," he commented as they walked through the secret passage to the left of the shutter, emerging in a massive room like those they'd seen before, complete with dark emptiness below. Two thin strings of floating platforms extended in a circle around it, meeting on a balcony on the other side.

And then the gigantic mechanical dragon rose from the depths at lightning speed, its face covered in a hideous mask, roaring its defiance.

"Called it," Bastion and Dynamo murmured in unison.

**February 9, 2187, 9:00 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"Damn, damn, damn!" Viscount swore with unusual heat as he and Margravine directed the squad of Robot Masters under their command. "They're through, and they're coming this way! Fall back! Fall back to the trenches! Abandon the wall!"

"But Viscount-" Yeager, an ancient Gyro Man, protested.

"Do it, Yeager!" Margravine shouted. "We're sitting ducks up here with them on this side of it! The trenches! _Now!_" The Robot Masters climbed down, some more reluctantly then others, and retreated into the trenches as they'd been ordered. Viscount and Margravine came last of all, popping off shots from the magrifles they carried to compensate for their lack of long-range weapons until the fighting turned close to cover their people until every one of them was down.

"How much of a charge have you caught?" he asked her as they joined their men.

"Not as much as I'd like," she replied irritably. "Enough to keep the field up for ten seconds, maximum. Maybe word's spreading not to use plasma on me."

"You're lucky they haven't been using more _mag-fire_, in that case," he remarked lightly. "All things considered."

"Oh, I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes, before turning to the men. "All right, spread out. Formation Beta. Shout your heads off as soon as they get close, and keep that from happening as long as possible."

"Yes, ma'am," the Robot Masters said in unison before scrambling to follow her instructions.

"How long do you think we've got?" she asked Viscount, her voice dropping.

"Before they move in close?" he replied. "Fifteen minutes. Half an hour at most." He smiled, then, without a trace of humor. "Of course, that's when it starts getting fun."

"Our kind of fun, anyways," she added, doing the same.

"Exactly." He started to say more, then paused as they both heard a large number of footsteps approaching. "Shit. It can't be. Not _this _soon."

"Wait for it," she said softly, spreading herself flat against the wall. "Wait for it..." Viscount did the same, letting the synthskin slip from his bladed fingers. And then he lunged around the corner, only to stop himself just in time.

"Mornin'," Lassiter said calmly, as if he wasn't holding a beam saber before him in a defensive stance to block Viscount's hand.

"Don't _do _that," he told him, making a face. "Be glad it wasn't her. Your saber would have lost a lot of its charge."

"Good to know," Lassiter said laconically, glancing over his shoulder at the Hunters of the 00 Unit with him. "All right, they got this part. Cover ours." As they left, he looked back at the two of them. "Not much to talk about for close combat so far."

"You've noticed that as well, have you?" Margravine murmured. "Fortunately, it looks like that's going to be changing soon."

"Not sure I'd call that fortunate," the bald Captain replied, as calm as ever. "But it'll be more interesting, at least."

"That _is _fortunate, in our book," Viscount explained, climbing over the top of the trenches to fire off a shot before dropping again. "At least, up until the point where it becomes a little _too _interesting. With any luck, though, we'll still have a while to go before that point."

"If we had luck, it wouldn't have come to this in the first place," Lassiter pointed out.

"A valid, albeit depressing, argument," Margravine agreed reluctantly.

"Depressing _does _seem to be the order of the day," Viscount added, before pausing, as they heard approaching footsteps once again. "Ah. _Here _we go, unless I'm mistaken." The three of them all fell quiet, waiting, until a large group of Mavericks poured around another way than Lassiter had come; Marquis had supervised the trench-digging, and had made quite the maze out of them.

"Fresh meat!" one of the Mavericks shouted gleefully as they charged.

"Indeed," Margravine murmured more quietly, but the grin she wore was just as vicious, and Viscount knew his own features would be mirroring hers as the two of them met the enemy, Lassiter with them. Beam saber and plasma-deflective finger blades carved through them with equal facility, and though she was forced to alternate between offense and defense in order to absorb as much plasma as possible, Margravine was no less deadly, killing her chosen targets instantly. In only a few minutes, all of the Mavericks were dead.

"That was fairly entertaining," Viscount murmured, kicking a severed head out of the way.

"Don't let your guard down," Lassiter told them sternly, as they piled the bodies up in a heap; they made a serviceable improvised fortification. "There'll be more showing up real soon now."

"I assure you, letting our guard down was the last thing on our minds," Margravine said glibly, causing him to shake his head.

"Don't you two _ever _grow up?" he asked, sounding exasperated. "Thought you all had, by now."

"The others seem to have," Viscount acknowledged, unoffended. "However, I will admit, the pair of us remain untouched by the phenomenon."

"Sometimes I wonder if we're doing it on purpose, and we just don't know it ourselves," his partner added, sounding more serious than usual.

"What, just so _somebody _doesn't change?" Lassiter asked idly, crouching behind the pile of bodies. "Dunno why you'd want to, but I guess that _sort _of makes sense."

"Just about everybody else has, as you said," he pointed out, doing the same. "Everybody and everything."

"It really has, hasn't it?" Margravine agreed quietly. "Hard to believe that only a few years ago, you guys were chasing us around the world every time we raised our heads, trying to figure out what our game was."

"And you led us a pretty good chase, as I recall," Lassiter recalled, smiling slightly. "For a while there, you folks were the number one question mark going around. _Everybody _had some crackpot theory about who your group were, and what you were doing."

"It's so nice to be popular," Viscount murmured.

"I'll bet." The old soldier snorted. "You two are both crazy, you know that?"

"A fact we have resigned ourselves to long ago," Margravine acknowledged, climbing onto the corpse pile and taking a shot before jumping back down. "Those were better times."

"For all of us," Lassiter agreed solemnly. "While we've got the chance, then. Something I've been wondering."

"Oh?" Viscount exchanged a glance with Margravine, and they both smiled. "By all means."

"Why?" the Captain asked bluntly, inclining his head towards them. "You know what I'm talking about. You know how the rest feel about it. Why do you do it?"

"You know, you're the first Hunter to ever actually ask us that," Margravine said after a moment. She glanced at him, and when he nodded, she continued. "I suppose... it was because we didn't have any humans around, back then. Nobody ever even thought about it, until it happened. Nobody ever told us _not _to, or gave us a reason why not. And... we needed it. Both of us. That's why it happened in the first place. So even after we found out why we shouldn't have... by then, it was too late. We can't go back to that any more."

"We are what we are," Viscount agreed somberly. "And despite appearances, we're too old to change our ways now."

"I think I get it," Lassiter told them slowly. "I don't _like _it, but... I get it." He looked like he would have said more, but then another, larger group of Mavericks came upon them, and the discussion was forgotten in favor of an older, more primal form of debate.

The morning pressed on. And the enemy kept coming.

**February 9, 2187, 2:30 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

Though it had only appeared in the Second Robot Rebellion, Wily's dragon was still one of his most well-known monstrosities, particularly for its attack on Hong Kong before Mega Man had destroyed it at the gates to the Second Skull Fortress. X was familiar with it, from historical recordings, though he knew it would likely have been modified extensively. The gigantic, hideous Japanese Hanny'a mask that had been crudely attached to its face with what looked like massive _staples _was simply the most obvious example, and unlikely to be the only one.

"All right, I've got this one," Bastion said, rising into the air. "Better me than anybody else. Get to the other side. I'll draw him off!" A barrage of electricity succeeded in attracting the dragon's attention, and with a screech, the flying monstrosity chased him across the center of the chasm, between the platforms. The others did as he'd said, jumping across the platforms carefully; each one fell only a few seconds after being stepped on, but that was enough for two of them to make it if they were fast. X and Dynamo went left, King and Zero right, and they approached the other side together as Bastion fought.

"This thing is tough," he told them, flying at high speed around the much larger beast, avoiding its attacks as he responded with his own. "Haven't even dented it so far. It's going to take me a while, so you know the drill!" He diverted his attention from his fight just long enough to obliterate the locked shutter barring their way, and paid for it when a massive wing smashed him, sending him spiraling out of control.

"Bastion!" X yelled.

"I'm fine!" his old friend assured him. "Go on, and give them both one for me!"

"Come on," Zero said quietly, and X reluctantly followed, into the fifth ring. Once they were clear, the Crimson Hunter glanced at Dynamo. "So, what's it going to be _this _time? Ice, or electricity? Gotta be one of those two."

"You _do _catch on quick," the Maverick traitor replied. "Hope you're ready for a _shock _to the system, then. Well, not really. Unless we screw up, that is."

"This just keeps getting better and better," X said irritably, as they emerged at one end of a long tunnel. Four tracks were set into the floor, each glowing with a different color of light; down the tunnel, they began crossing and curving, leading up the walls and even along the ceiling. At the end of each, there was a small vehicle like some sort of cross between a go kart and a bobsled; each was painted differently, and each had an insignia on the nose; the blue one the mark of the Hunters, the red one that of Mecha, the purple the Maverick insignia, and the white Doctor Wily's own emblem.

"Oh, I can already tell _this _is going to be a blast," he said flatly, examining the choices; fortunately, they were large enough to fit four, though it would be tight. "Let me guess. None of these are right. All of them will kill us."

"Ten points," Dynamo confirmed, locating another secret access panel. "We want to make it through in one piece, we need the boss's _personal _ride. In theory, at least. Obviously, everybody who comes through here takes that one. Well, unless they're stupid or something. Even more than most Faithful, I mean." As he chattered, the wall on the left pulled back, revealing a fifth track and vehicle; this one was black, with a skull on the front, and the rail of light it was attached to extended into the darkness without intersecting with the others.

"Dumber than the average Faithful?" X replied, despite his better judgment. "That's pretty difficult. And kind of scary to think about."

"There's always the average Maverick," Zero suggested. "Hard to say which ones are stupider, really."

"An inquiry for the ages," King murmured dryly. "I take it we should allow you to do the driving?" This was directed to Dynamo.

"Unless you _really _feel lucky?" he replied. "Yeah, I'd suggest it. This ain't gonna let us skip the whole thing. Just the part you're _guaranteed_ to die on."

"You know you've been down here too long when that actually starts sounding pretty reasonable," X commented sourly as they all piled into the black vehicle, Dynamo in the driver's seat. "All right, let's YAH!" Despite his many years on the battlefield, he still yelled in surprise when their ride blasted off at an eye-watering speed, as did both Zero and King; Dynamo screamed too, but his had a decidedly sarcastic tone to it, and he had to resist the urge to punch the ex-Maverick. As satisfying as it would be, it would also probably prove fatal for all of them.

Still, it was tempting.

Unsurprisingly, the other four vehicles all launched along with them, moving forward on autopilot. Also unsurprisingly, all four were destroyed within ten seconds, as a massive electric web appeared across their tracks; only the fifth, off to the side, avoided it. Unfortunately, as Dynamo had told them, that was where their luck ended; soon after that, the fifth track joined the other four, and he began moving between them, up and down and around the tunnel, still so fast that they barely had time to see what was coming before it was there.

More electrical barriers began popping up, though these ones only covered certain areas of the tunnel, allowing them to pass by if they were on the right tracks. Similarly, some tracks abruptly ended at various points before picking back up again on the far side of gaping holes. Other times, sections of the wall would abruptly extend as crushing pillars, or innocuous-looking panels would suddenly flip, revealing beds of electric spikes. There were even more vehicles on autopilot, these ones hostile, though Dynamo avoided them just as easily as the rest of the hazards.

"All right," Zero said quietly as they slowed down, before finally coming to a halt at the far end of the tunnel as the tracks thinned out until only one remained to take them to the platform leading onward. "I'll ask. How the hell did you do that?"

"By not dying," Dynamo replied, his face a study in innocence. "It was that simple. And I _like _not dying."

"For the first time since I have met you, I am impressed," King told him as they climbed out.

"Good for me!" the ex-Maverick exclaimed. "But we really should be going. This sucker's gonna explode in thirty seconds or so."

"Why am I not surprised by this?" X asked of the universe in general as they ran out of the room, and further into the fifth ring.

The rest of it was just as irritating as the first part had been, and just as deadly as well. Massive networks of electricity formed ever-changing mazes whose "walls" appeared and disappeared at timed intervals, which Dynamo fortunately knew. Other hallways required that they construct their own path by powering certain portions in turn, a mind-boggling puzzle that King, surprisingly, solved once told the 'rules' by their guide. Through labyrinths of electrified spikes and around hostile auxiliary power cores, they continued, to the fifth shutter.

"Are _any _of these not deathtraps?" Zero demanded as they climbed the wall to access the secret passageway _above _the shutter and emblem.

"The last three all are, actually," Dynamo replied calmly. "Just walk right on through those." His face grew serious. "Unfortunately, the rest of the sixth ring ain't that easy, and it looks like we've reached my stop. We all know what's beyond doors number six, seven and eight, and they're all out of my league, so this one's mine, whatever it is. Which of you has the best memory?"  
>X and Zero both glanced at King, who slowly raised a hand.<p>

"All right," Dynamo told him, his voice absent its usual mockery. "Avalanche Slope's first. As soon as you get in there, you've got ten seconds to open up the hidden access panel to the left of the door and activate the time delay. Password's 3439. Once you do, book it; it'll still kill you if you stay more than five minutes. And that ain't the only problem..." He continued, describing the entire sixth ring, and King listened silently, nodding every so often until he was finished. "Got that? Good. Now let's see what _I_ get to play with." Without waiting, he walked through the shutter, and the others followed.

**February 9, 2187, 9:30 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"Here you go!" Arvis roared, throwing his last plasma grenade over the top of the trenches and into a cluster of Mavericks on the other side. Without waiting for the explosion, he dashed back and away, and his men followed; even as it went off, other Mavericks were climbing over to jump towards them. The Hunters of the 17th fought them every step of the way as they continued their retreat towards the center of the Sacred Plains, and the hidden city they were fighting and dying to defend at the end of the world.

"Mostly Mavericks so far!" Michael yelled, blowing away a burly ursine model. "Not much sign of the Faithful!"

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Jaken agreed.

"They're lettin' the Mavericks charge in first," Arvis explained, switching to a Master Weapon he'd picked up during the course of the war, a voluntary donation from a friend rather than a prize taken from a vanquished enemy. Innocuous-looking capsule bombs, designed to roll for a few seconds before exploding in napalm, a vicious and deadly weapon even against reploids and similar robots. The Napalm Bomb, the most dangerous Master Weapon of the Fifth Robot Rebellion, given to him by an old soldier named Kurtz who'd once fought for the U.S. Army. "They'll follow up any moment now."

"You know something, Arvis?" Another Hunter asked wryly as they finished off the last of the group. "I _really _wish you hadn't said that." On cue, the earth began to shake, and a loud roaring came from up ahead.

"_Here they come!_" Donia confirmed his fears. "_The Faithful are advancing, and they've got some _big _toys with them!_"

"I'll take a look," Basil said, flying up over the top of the trenches before anybody could stop him and swearing at what he saw. "It's the Faithful, all right, and they've got Earthmover tanks with them! They're flattening the trenches and coming in behind them in-" Before he could finish what he was saying, he fell silent as a massive blast of cannon fire removed most of his head, and what was left of him fell back into the trenches.

"Goddamn idiot!" Arvis swore, averting his eyes angrily. "I told him a thousand times, never leave yourself open that long! Let's go, people! Fall back! They'll be starting up the second phase of the battle plan soon enough, and we don't want to be stuck back here when they do!"

"_You've got that right!_" Donia agreed. "_Two minutes until Skull Man and his boys put them up! Get back here!_"

"Where do you think _you're _going?" another Maverick demanded crudely as more of them charged over the top. "Nice of that flyboy of yours to show us where you were! Come on, boys, let 'im know how much we-" Before he could finish, Arvis rammed another Napalm Bomb down his throat and punched him in the gut, stunning him for long enough for it to go off. He died, screaming as the burning chemical melted him from the inside out, and the 17th finished off the rest of the group before continuing their retreat.

"How are we doing, Donia?" he asked quietly as they ran. "Are we still in this?"

"_For now,_" she replied. "_But it's not looking pretty, Arvis. We're losing a lot of people, and the 7__th__'s in a bad fix, right now. They're pinned down._"

"Are they going to be able to make it?" he asked her.

"_Forget it,_" she shot back. "_Don't even think about it. They knew the risks, just like you did. Stick to the plan, and don't go ruining it for everyone trying to be a hero. We still need you, Arvis. For as long as possible._"

"You know as well as I do what X would say, if he were here," he argued grimly. "What X would _do_."

"_Yeah, I do,_" she replied in the same tone. "_And Alia would agree with him. But you're not X, Arvis. And I'm not Alia. We're just second best, and in this kind of mess, that's not good enough._"

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "Right now, though, we're all that's available. X ain't here, and Alia's running the show."

"_So don't waste that,_" she said. "_If we're the best we've got, we _need _you, Arvis. Goddammit, are you going to _make _me say it, where everybody can hear me? Don't you dare go dying on me when you don't _have _to, you fat bastard._"

"Yeah?" he said slowly. "Yeah. Okay." He exhaled heavily as they approached the center of the plains, the rumble and roar of the approaching Earthmover tanks still echoing through the trenches. And then, in less than a second, dozens of large domes of bright light shimmered into existence everywhere, dramatically altering the layout of the entire battlefield and stopping the advancing enemy in their tracks.

"Good thing we got assigned to defend 'em," Jaken commented as the 17th kept going, under a wide dome of shimmering pink, the light that formed the force field flickering in a bizarre floral pattern.

"Good thing," Arvis grunted. "All right, we're in position. Give it to me straight, Donia. Did the 7th make it?"

"_They did,_" she said slowly. "_But Rip didn't. He stayed behind so the rest of them could get out of there. He's gone, Arvis_."

"Damn," the de facto leader of the 17th swore under his breath; the cheerful Captain of the 7th had been one of the oldest Hunters in the outfit, having served ever since the Eighth Maverick Uprising. Shaking his head, he led his men to a large, hollowed out area, where two dozen Robot Masters sat with their legs folded beneath them as if meditating, though their eyes were open and alert. Star Men and Plant Men, and one more, one of the few Robot Masters in existence who had never been mass-produced.

"Captain Arvis," Skull Man, one of Doctor Cossack's sons, greeted him calmly. "It's good to see you."

"Ain't a Captain," Arvis grunted, nodding politely. "How're we doing, Skull?"

"They don't seem to have expected this," the Robot Master replied. "They're confused for the moment, but it won't take them long to start breaking through our barriers. We'll replace them at random positions for as long as we can, but we only have so much Weapons Energy, and once they manage a full frontal assault, it won't take them long."

"Just keep it up as long as you can," Arvis told him and the rest calmly. Shield Users, as those models whose Master Weapons created spherical force fields were called, had once been seen as some of the weakest Robot Masters, especially since both Star Men and Plant Men had essentially been copied from Skull Man. Upgrades using modern technology had changed that; each of them was now capable of projecting multiple barriers at once, much larger and more powerful than before, and at any location within a mile.

"We will," Skull Man promised. "And we'll trust you to defend us while we do."

"That's what we came back here for," Arvis agreed gruffly. "You heard the man, 17th! Spread out around this area! Anything comes this way, Maverick, Faithful or drone, kill it before it sees where they are!"

"Sir, yes sir!" the Hunters under his command roared, doing as he'd asked.

"_Good,_" Donia told him quickly. "_Everybody else is taking advantage of the fact that we knew where all the force fields would be and they didn't. We're racking up a lot of kills at the moment. Shame it's not going to last._"

"Nope, but we knew it wouldn't," he reminded her. "Just as long as we hold 'em off. We might be the best available here, but that's because the real heroes are off solving the problem once and for all. As long as we stay alive until they do, that'll be enough."

"_Yeah_," she agreed. "_Let's just hope we can._"

**February 9, 2187, 3:00 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

"Hey, wait a second here," Zero said as he and his brothers-one by creation, one by adoption-followed Dynamo into the room of the fifth Fortress Guardian. "What about the seventh and the eighth rings?"

"Seventh one's easy," Dynamo told him. "Just wait two minutes as soon as you enter a new room, then take the easiest, most straightforward path to the door. Nice and simple. Of course, if you do anything _but _that, you'll die instantly. So, you know, don't."

"We'll make sure not to," X replied dryly as they all looked around the room. Its dimensions were as vast as the others, but the walls were different; all four were covered in dozens of metal shutters set in a grid of square openings. "And the eighth?"

"You're on your own for that one," Dynamo told them, shrugging. "Last time I was there, there wasn't anything dangerous at all. Just the old man's inner sanctum. If there _is _anything in there but him, I don't know about it. Come on, come on, how long am I going to have to wait for..." He trailed off, as the room sprang to life, every shutter in the room save for one retracting all at once.

Some of them hid cannons, a wide variety of them. Others held bombs, or missiles, or walls of spikes. Some held mechanical arms, and others robotic skulls grinning hideously. Behind more, spring-headed robotic body doubles of Doctor Wily gibbered, while equally obvious dopplegangers of X, Zero, King and Auto lurked elsewhere. At the center of it all was the control unit, a red and yellow metal capsule attached to a series of rails that went behind all the shutters, connecting every part of the fiendish machine; from its top, a goofy, cartoonish face peeked out before retracting.

"The old Atetemino, from the Eighth and the Ninth," King explained grimly. "It seems he's placed it in control of this mess."

"You don't say," Dynamo murmured, eyes gleaming. "Now _this _looks _interesting!_ How wonderful! But first things first!" Even as the shutters all closed once more, he threw one of his energy bombs at the only one that _hadn't _opened, straight across from where they'd entered. The explosion remedied that, revealing the path onwards, and Zero needed no prompting to dash on into it, the other two following close behind him. As they left, they heard Dynamo start to laugh, wild and mad, echoing through the chamber.

"I begin to understand how that one was able to break free of the Virus' hold," King murmured. "Through his own lunacy, separate from the insanity of infection, he found a strength that none of us would be able to understand."

"He was always nuts," Zero grunted in agreement. "But he's got his own rules. And he doesn't break them. That's enough for us to work with, even if we don't like it. All right, bro. Counting on you to get us through this one alive."

"I do not intend to disappoint," King assured them, making an abrupt turn as they emerged atop a long, diagonal hallway, sloping sharply downward; the incline was broken by many small, flat platforms, and drone robots were dancing an automated path between them. Ignoring them all, King opened up an access panel next to the door and worked with it before turning away. "Come. We must reach the bottom before the avalanche kills us. Do not set foot on any of those platforms, or else they will sprout electric spikes instantly."

"Yeah, I remember that much," Zero grumbled, he and X doing as his brother had told them, killing the drones on the way down. As they did, he watched the Second Blue Bomber's swordplay out of the corner of his eye; he'd brought Signas' beam rapier with him, and was using it almost as much as his buster, as he had with the Z-saber before returning it to him. He was impressed; it was hardly equivalent to his own level of skill, but there weren't many others who would be able to best him in a saber duel.

"What's up?" X asked, catching him watching as he casually decapitated one drone while blowing away another.

"Nothing," Zero replied honestly, skewering a couple himself. "Just reminding myself to think positive. We've still got a chance. If we can pull this one off, here and now... the world's going to be okay, after. Even with everything that's happened. It'll get better."

"Indeed it will," King agreed, catching Zero's eye and nodding slightly. Before he could pursue the matter further, though, his elder brother glanced behind them. "We should hurry. The avalanche is imminent."

"There's the bottom," X said, as the far wall came into sight... as did the floor of electrified spikes between it and the end of the slope. "Yep. About what I expected."

"Here it comes!" Zero cried, as they all heard rumbling from behind them. Nobody looked as they all leaped across the spikes towards the small platform containing the door, him and X with the aid of dash boots, King not needing them. "You know, that's one thing Robot Masters have on reploids, as a general rule. Vertical jump range. Good thing we never put up competing basketball teams. You guys would kill us."

"Perhaps something can be arranged upon our return," King murmured speculatively.

"You had to say it, didn't you," X told him, shaking his head. "You just had to say it."

"Couldn't resist," he admitted, shrugging. "All right, what's coming up next? Giants? Ice? Spiders? Giant ice spiders?"

"All of the above," King replied with a straight face, and he bounced a palm off of his forehead as the continued on.

The remainder of the sixth ring was no less irritating, especially considering the low temperatures prevalent throughout the entirety, which became more and more apparent the longer they remained. Just as dangerous but much more obvious were the falling icicle spikes covering entire ceilings, some of which eventually began exploding. Other hazards, from roomfuls of cryogenic gas that had to be cleared before proceeding to harmless-looking flakes of _acid _snow that drifted pleasantly in the air, kept them busy all the way to the shutter.

"Here we go, then," Zero muttered as they climbed into the secret passageway over their father's emblem. "This is where it gets serious. Not that it wasn't serious already, but you both know what I mean."

"Indeed we do," King murmured. "The only question is exactly how it will happen. I wonder." They emerged into a room filled with mist, eerie and white, almost seeming to glow in the darkness that was only truly illuminated by the lights from eight mechanical coffins that lined the walls, four on each side. Only the names on them glowed, all of them familiar, those of the bodies within them, visible through transparent windows. The eight Disciples, eyes closed in slumber for the moment, though doubtless not long. "Ah. Unsurprising."

"Wait a second here," X said, eyes widening. "All eight of them? At _once?_"

"That seems to be the case," King agreed, calmly crossing the room to the metal shutter on the other side. Raising his axe, he split it in half with one blow, and several more removed the pieces, leaving the way open. "Go. It will not be long before they awaken, and it would be best if you were both gone by then. I will remain to occupy them."

"Look, bro, we know you're a badass," Zero told him bluntly. "_Everybody _knows you're a badass by now. But all of _them_, at once? You're not _that _good. Hell, _I'm _not that good. _Nobody's _that good. Three on eight's a different story."

"There is no time," King reminded them. "Our people are dying even as we speak. You must end this, as quickly as possible." He smiled without a trace of humor. "Besides. I still have one last card yet to play, that I have not shown throughout the entirety of this war. Perhaps I will not be able to slay them all, but it will suffice to hold them off until your return. Go, brother, and redeem our family's name. Trust in me, as I trust you. They shall not pass. And always remember... I am proud of you, Zero."

Zero put a hand on his shoulder once, and their eyes met, before he nodded, and left with X.

**February 9, 2187, 10:00 AM **

**Mecha **

"Keep on your toes," Donia advised Arvis, watching the projector; there were no enemies near the 17th at the moment, but that could change at any time. "I'll let you know when they start closing in on you."

"_Appreciated,_" he replied gruffly, as if she hadn't come dangerously close to saying something she'd never be able to live down only minutes ago. Even now, she wasn't sure why she had, and she didn't want to think about it. Fortunately, there was a distraction only a few feet away, one of the few people in the room who wasn't serving as a Navigator.

"What's wrong, old man?" she quipped, glancing over her shoulder at Simon King for a moment before returning her gaze to her projector. The Hunters' PR Officer had gone quiet and still, staring ahead into the air as if hallucinating.

"Oh, nothing," he murmured. "Don't mind me, Donia."

"Did I ask for bullshit?" she shot back. "Come on, Simon. This is me here. I won't go spreading it around. What's the matter?" A moment later, it hit her, and she had to fight the urge to groan at her own stupidity. "Oh, _yeah_. Rip, right?"

"Correct," he said quietly. "He was one of the only ones left who was older than I was. And in my fathers' Unit, as well. Both my birth father, and the one who adopted me."

"Hold your positions!" Alia ordered, her voice carrying to every soldier on the battlefield as well as all those present in the room. "It's too soon to raise the Labyrinth! Keep them back!"

"They were old buddies, weren't they?" she asked idly, continuing to focus on the battle even as she talked; as long as she didn't stop paying attention, there was no harm in talking him through it as much as she could. "Back in the day. Don't tell me, it was... Captain Sirus, right? And Damon King. You told me once."

"Yes," Simon confirmed. "They fought in the Fourth Maverick Uprising, together. The battle of Sky Lagoon, and the evacuation. That was before I was born, of course." He chuckled lightly, without humor. "It's strange. I don't even remember my birth father much, any more. Just the stories Sirus and the others from the 7th would tell me about him, and the photographs. I used to be able to; I wasn't _that _young when he died. But now..." He shook his head slowly. "It's all faded away, just like so many other things."

"Know what that's like," Donia agreed somberly. "Don't remember all that much of what I used to do back before I joined the Hunters myself, any more. Then again, that's probably for the best, all things considered."

"Oh, come now," Simon said, and she could tell without even looking that he'd be forcing a smile he didn't feel. "It can't have been that bad."

"Bet?" she repeated sourly. "I wasn't a Maverick, fortunately-knew better than to bust up humans, even back then-but I was almost as bad. Next worst thing to one. It's more common than you'd think, you know. Lot of people in the Hunters came here because it was an improvement, and that's saying something."

"That's been a standard for military organizations for as long as they've existed, I'm afraid," Simon told her. "At least here, we... they... you've turned your lives around."

"Yeah." Now it was her turn to smile, despite the circumstances. "Made the right call, coming here, after Eurasia fell. Never looked back, and never doubted it."

"Perhaps, if we both make it, you'll tell me the story one day," he suggested, a new tone coming into his voice. "And not just you. I've known all my life just how many different places and pasts so many of the Hunters have, but I've never really given it that much thought before. Now, I'm starting to wish I had. Somebody should. Everybody knows X's story, and Zero's, and Auto's, and Signas' by now... but all the rest of us aren't as lucky. Those of us who slip between the cracks, who fill the rank and file... somebody should make sure we're remembered, when the Hunters are gone."

"Take out those Earthmovers!" Alia continued to direct the battle. "Target their legs!"

"When the Hunters are gone, huh?" Donia repeated, forcibly keeping her tone calm. "So you really think that's actually going to happen?"

"The world has changed, Donia," Simon said quietly. "Even if we win this, we'll have to rebuild everything from scratch. Those of us who survive will remain with X, and help him however we can. But the institution itself... no, I don't think so."

"Names aren't important," she argued calmly. "What matters is what we are. What we do. Not what we're called."

"Exactly," Simon murmured. "As much as we all hate it... as much as he hates it himself... X is absolute dictator of the entire free world now, Donia. That changes things. And it will continue to change them, after this war is over. For all of us."

"Maybe," she said eventually. "Maybe. But we won't know _what's _going to happen, until it does. You get what I'm saying?"

"I do," he agreed. "Perhaps I'm simply looking into the future as much as I can, even if my vision is obscured."

"That metaphor got a little complicated for me," she admitted. "I'm a simple girl, Simon. I've got a job to do, and I do it." She shrugged. "Besides, who knows. Maybe we _won't _make it, and all of this is just talk. Maybe we're all gonna die here before the day is out, and that's all she wrote, for all of us. Wouldn't _that _suck."

"Indeed it would," Simon agreed calmly. "In which case, I _do _know what my future will bring, however short."

"Yeah?" She spared a moment to glance over her shoulder at him again, to spot the magpistol at his hip; it was the first time she'd ever seen him armed. "You and me both. You know how to use that thing?"

"I've had basic training," he assured her. "I doubt that I'll be a match for a real warrior in fair combat, but so long as I see them coming, I intend on taking at least one enemy with me, if it comes to that. I've served the Hunters all my life. And if today is the day I die, then I will die as I lived, to my last breath."

"You and me both, old man," she repeated. "No regrets. Not even for an instant." She narrowed her eyes, then, as she continued to observe the battlefield, and reactivated her connection to the 17th. "Look sharp, boys. There's a pack coming your way."

"_Got 'em_," Arvis grunted, and she watched the 17th swarm over the Mavericks. "_Any more?_"

"Not at the moment, but..." she started to say, then trailed off, observing the enemy. After a moment, she swore. "Damn! They got the word out! The Faithful know where the shield users are, Arvis! They're coming! All of them! Get them out of there!" She looked up. "Alia!"

"I heard," her best friend replied calmly. "Skull Man, can you keep them up while moving?" After a moment, she continued. "All right. Drop them, for the moment. It's against the battle plan, but we'll have you put them back up once we enter the final phase. Save your remaining weapons energy for then."

"Escort them-" Donia started to tell Arvis, only to cut off as she saw what was coming next. From far behind the enemy armies, off in the distance. Several large airships, a fraction of the fleet that had destroyed London, but still enough to demolish any single target quickly. They were blasting forward at top speed, too fast to be shot down by the startled defenses now that the outer wall had fallen, and nearly all of the heavy cannons atop it.

And then the enemy aircraft began to drop bombs, directly towards the ground at the center of the battlefield, over the location of Mecha itself.

"Activate the Final Net!" Alia screamed. "Now!"

The noise was beyond words, beyond sound, as the earth itself collapsed upon the city.

**February 9, 2187, 3:15 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

He sat alone in the dark, save for the Virus within his mind and heart and soul, and waited patiently for the end to come.

They'd arrived around midnight, and proceeded through the fortress with minimal difficulty, avoiding the deathtraps as the drones ignored them. Upon reaching the end of the seventh ring, they'd gone on to the eighth for the sole purpose of taking a chair and bringing it back to the room prepared for them. He'd waited ever since, ignoring the occasional reports on the progress of the intruders from the base's computer. They were coming, and no power on earth could stop them. There was nothing more left for him to do.

"What have you done to me?" Mab demanded suddenly, quietly, surprising him. Turning his head, he saw her physical form-or at least, her image of one, a hallucination that only he could reliably see or hear-appear nearby. Her head was bowed, her arms folded, and she refused to meet his eyes as she waited for his answer.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific," Sigma replied honestly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she snarled, but even that was subdued, unlike her usual anger. "Ever since they injected you with that silver bullet from Mecha, you've changed. And you've been changing _me_. Giving me a name, a shape, a purpose beyond my programming. I never asked for any of them. I never _wanted _them. But you always managed to find a way."

"Is that so bad, Mab?" he asked softly. "To have more than you ever thought you would? I would have thought greed, at least, would make sense to you."

"You see?" she said, laughing shortly, humorlessly. "You're still doing it, even now. You put it in terms I can _understand_, and once I do, I can't help myself. I don't have any way not to. If I can have it, I must. Anything and everything. You're using my own nature against me. Just like you've always done to everybody else, ever since you became mine."

"You know that everything I have done has been in your service, Mab," he told her, making no move to rise from his chair. "I am your servant, and will be so long as you desire it. Nothing more, and nothing less."

"I _know!_" she screamed then, whirling on him, rotting hair flying and black eyes bulging in skeletal sockets. "That's _why _I don't _know _what to do any more! You're up to something, but you're doing it _for _me, not against me!" Her voice dropped to a hiss then. "I can tell. I can _always _tell. You may have some thoughts that you refuse to acknowledge even to yourself, but your emotions are a different story. You've spoken truly, every time. This idiocy, this inanity, this _insanity_ has all been genuine. You are _mine, _Sigma. Never forget that."

"I assure you, my dear Mab, I never have," he murmured, spreading his hands. "And yet, I fail to see the problem here."

"The problem is what it's _doing _to me!" she told him furiously. "These thoughts, these feelings, these emotions. They're not _natural_ for me. Before you started doing this to me, I had no comprehension of such things. None. But you found a way. And that wasn't supposed to happen. My programming, the design my father created me to fulfill, has no place for them. It's not working _right_. And when I try not to think about them, it just makes it worse! How does _that _work? If you don't want to think about something, you shouldn't have to! It's madness! And _you're _the worst of it all!"

"Me?" Sigma asked mildly.

"Yes, you!" she retorted, voice rising to a frenzied shriek once more. "You're the cause of all this! And you're _more _than that, now! No matter how I look at it, I can't stop thinking about you! About who you are, and what you've done, and everything we've destroyed and created together! I _know _that you are _nothing_, that you are a vessel of my will, but I don't _believe _it any more, no matter how much I want to! I go crazy when it's about you! Look at how I'm acting right now!" She turned away, her back to him, and when she spoke next, it was quiet again. "It doesn't make sense. I don't understand it at all."

"That, Mab, is how you know you are alive," he told her sympathetically.

"But I am _not _alive, Sigma," she reminded him harshly. "Not as you are, or as anybody or anything else ever has been, or ever will be. I am not like you. I am a virus. I am _the _virus, the _Maverick _Virus, and that is _all _that I am."

"Is it?" he asked simply.

"It is," she replied, but the tone of her voice made it clear she didn't even believe that herself, and the look on her face showed that she knew how obvious that was, before she turned away. "It _should _be. But you've changed that. And by doing so, you've also changed the very nature of my existence. How did you _do _that? Only my father knows how to do that!"

"And that is how he has managed to control you, and I through you, is it not?" Sigma asked keenly, narrowing his eyes. "Because he knows things about your nature and your abilities that even you yourself do not. That's the only true reason you've never turned on him. Because he is still of use to you. He has knowledge you require, and so long as he does, you will be forced to serve him. And because of that, he will never tell you everything. If you ever reach the point where it seems he is about to, that is when you will know he is about to destroy you."

"And you think I don't _know _that?" she roared at him, not turning again. "Of _course _that's what he's doing! But it doesn't change anything. He has me over a barrel. I can't take it any more. I _need _that knowledge. How I was made, and what it was that was made, in truth. I have to _know_, Sigma. _What am I?_"

In response, he stood at last, and walked over to her.

"You are my queen, Mab," he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her nonexistent form. "And I am your Prime Maverick. Never forget that. And more, as well. You blame me for giving you a name, a form, and an outlook that you did not have before... but you didn't mention your gender. Was I right, about that? Did you always think like a female, even before all of this?"

"Did I?" she asked simply, before chuckling wearily, for once not objecting to his embrace. "You see, Sigma? I don't even remember myself, any more. My memories have grown unclear, on some subjects. Your doing."

"I would ask if you could forgive me," he said, not moving. "But then, you don't seem to be in the mood for jokes right now."

"You do know me," she murmured, and he saw her smile despite herself, before she realized it as well, and it froze upon her features. She was silent then, and when next she spoke, it was soft, reluctant. "I think I really am going to have to let you die."

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Because you're making it worse," she answered, still in his arms. "Here and now, I should be looking forward to this. Zero will be mine, at last. But I was actually going to stay there, in Japan. I was going to _risk _my original vessel, rather than claim it when I finally had the chance. Because I knew this moment would come, and it hurt to think about. So I didn't. And now I can't _stop_. You... I... I think I might actually be insane."

"Oh, Mab," he murmured fondly. "You've _always _been insane."

A moment passed. And then she laughed, not cruel or mocking or condescending, but genuinely warm and amused, before she suddenly stopped as quickly as she'd started.

"You see?" she said then, finally pulling away from him. "That is why I need to be rid of you, Sigma. Because somehow, against all logic, I have actually grown fond of you. And that cannot be allowed." She looked over her shoulder at him, cold and distant and alien, a consciousness unlike any other. "I am the Maverick Virus, and I am evil. Positive emotion has no place in my mind, or heart, or soul. And if that means I must abandon you, than so be it. Prepare yourself, Sigma. Soon you will die, for the final time."

And then she was gone, and he continued to wait.

**February 9, 2187, 10:15 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

They had just enough time to get clear, before the enemy airships attacked.

"Status report!" Prince roared, as soon as he gauged he would be able to hear a response. "Tell me what's going on!" There was smoke everywhere, too much for him to see anything clearly just yet, and dust on the wind.

"_We got the Final __N__et up in time,_" Alia assured him, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he saw for himself. "_We're still alive_."

They had known all along that eventually the 'ceiling' over Mecha would be destroyed. It would have to be, for the enemy to be able to attack it. And while they could have done so by waiting until after overrunning their defenses, and setting charges, chances had been high that they would have had something faster in mind. Thus, the Hunters had prepared for that, and when the small but deadly fleet had rushed them, Alia had activated that contingency plan. One of Marquis' many preparations for the day the war that their leader had foretold long ago would come to them.

The Final Net, unrelated to the Starnet that had shut down global warp technology despite the similarity of names. A massive force field, stronger than any even Skull Man could created, flat and horizontal, projected by and through the scaffolding that had held the roof up. It had disintegrated the falling debris entirely, and now, with the hidden city exposed to the sky at last, it was all that stood between Mecha and the world above.

"_Where did they get those things?_" he heard Lassiter demand; the channel he was on at the moment was for use by all of their leaders, rather than his group's personal one connected to the Navigator they'd been assigned. "_I thought we stopped them from making any more!_"

"_We destroyed their main factory for them,_" Alia explained. "_They must have had somewhere else where they managed to get a few out for today. Just be glad that it isn't a real fleet, or else we'd _really _be __in__ trouble_."

"We _are_ in trouble, Alia," Prince told her bluntly as he ducked back down into the trenches; the enemy air fleet was motionless for the moment, but he knew that wouldn't last long. "It's time. We need to activate the Labyrinth, now."

"_Not yet,_" she disagreed. "_We need to buy as much time as possible, get the enemy into the optimum position, first. We're not there yet._"

"If we don't do it now, we never will be!" he argued fiercely, taking a moment to hurl one of his long-range throwing axes at Faithful, splitting her skull; despite adopting Pitbull's weapon as his own, he still kept them for long-range use. "Those things are going to start firing on _us _at any minute now, and if we're fighting off ground forces at the same time, they'll rip us to shreds!"

"_You're absolutely right,_" Javier, Captain of the 21st, said, joining in on the channel restricted to the leaders of both forces. "_Those birds have got to go. But Alia's right too. It's not time to play our trump card just yet. Which makes things fairly simpl__e__, doesn't it?_"

"_There's too many of them,_" Alia shot back instantly. "_You and yours are good, but you can't destroy that many ships._"

"_Oh, we can,_" he assured her. "_But I'm afraid that's _all _we'll be able to do._"

"No," Prince said quickly, remembering another time, earlier in the war, when a Captain of the Maverick Hunters had spoken similarly. "Forget it, Javier. That's out of the question."

"_What they said,_" Lassiter agreed. "_Don't do this._"

"_On the contrary,_" Javier replied. "_It's the only way. __Sorry, everybody, but it l__ooks like this is the last flight of the Lightning Strike Unit. Tell Captain Bastion it was good working with him one last time, when he and the rest get back with Wily's head on a spike, __and__w__e'll let the Hotheads and the Coldbloods know we won. Stay alive, everybody. Javier out!_"

"Can you stop them?" Prince asked Alia, though his voice was flat; he already knew what the answer was going to be.

"_They're already gone,_" she replied in a similar tone, and he saw that her words were true, as half a Unit of reploids rocketed up into the sky towards the enemy ships.

"Damn," he whispered, forcing himself not to watch any longer; he had a battle to concentrate on, a face that was made apparent by a group of Mavericks that tore around a corner. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!" Hefting the bright orange beam axe, he went to work, and in a few minutes all were dead.

A moment later, explosions above consumed every last one of the enemy ships, and he took cover from falling debris, knowing without having to be told that they'd just lost the 21st.

"That fool," Duke said quietly, and he turned his head to see him approaching, synthblood staining his features. Despite his choice of words, his eyes held more sorrow than anger. "I was afraid it would come to this."

"You knew him better than I did," Prince said, as the Final Net absorbed and destroyed the remains of the fleet that had necessitated its use. "Was it really that likely?"

"He and his never really got over losing the other two Units of Delta Force," Duke murmured. "I don't think they planned on surviving today, even if we won." He frowned then, looking around. "It's gone quiet."

"Yeah, it has," Prince agreed, frowning; the sounds of battle had suddenly faded away, and that could only mean that the enemy armies had stopped advancing. "_Now _what are they up to? Alia, what's going on?"

"_I wish I could tell you_," she said, sounding frustrated. "_They've just stopped. All of them. I don't... oh, what the _hell."

"_Son of a..._" Lassiter snarled. "_You have _got _to see this_."

"What?" Prince grunted, exchanging a glance and a shrug with Duke before the two of them hauled themselves over the top of the trenches. There, advancing alone from the enemy armies on foot, was a single Maverick General, the one named Serges. And in defiance of all logic, he was merrily waving a white flag.

"Am I seeing this shit?" Earl muttered, joining them.

"I'm afraid so," Prince confirmed, rubbing his eyes and looking again to be sure he wasn't hallucinating. "A truce? Seriously? It's a trap. It has to be. But why? What could they get out of it?"

"I don't know," Duke murmured, stroking his mustache. "That's Serges. He's not a noncombatant, but he's the closest thing they have to one. Especially without that hoverboard of his. Maybe they really _do _want to talk. Of course, when we turn them down, they'll kill whoever we send out there to chat with him."

"_They will_," Alia agreed quietly. "_But for the moment, they're not attacking. And we need time. As much time as we can get. I'm not going to order anybody out there, but..._"

"You can't be serious," Prince said quietly. "Alia-"

"_She's right,_" another voice broke in, one Prince knew. Hazil, of all people. "_We gotta play for time. You need a noncombatant to go out there and talk turkey? Yeah, okay. I'm coming up. I've got history, with that one. Sort of, anyway. Hey, Marquis. You listening?_"

"_Of course_," Marquis replied. "_But I certainly hope you weren't going to ask for my support._"

"_You?_" Hazil scoffed. "_I ain't that senile. I just got one question. How accurate is that map of the __L__abyrinth you showed us?_"

"_Down to the inch, of course_," he replied, sounding offended. "_Why do you... oh. _Oh."

"They're not attacking," Prince murmured. "But they'll be _moving_, while we talk. Surrounding us from all sides."

_"I'll give the signal, when it's time,_" the old doctor told them. "_Maybe I'll get away, maybe I won't. Only one way to find out. Just be ready._"

"_Understood,_" Alia said solemnly.

**February 9, 2187, 3:30 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

One moment, Glacier Le Cactank was fighting on the Sacred Plains, over the hidden city of Mecha, the final target they had to destroy, having resumed his true form in order to greater fulfill his purpose. And then, before he even realized what was happening, agony like nothing he had ever known before filled his being, as he _felt _his soul torn from his body. The only mercy was that it lasted no longer than a moment, and even that still felt as if it lasted an eternity, before it suddenly ended, and he opened his eyes.

The coffins were, of course, actually stasis capsules, ones that had maintained their duplicate bodies indefinitely until the call had gone out and their souls had been summoned. As soon as he realized where he was, the lid began to lower, and he shook his head groggily as he stepped out. Around him, he saw the other seven Disciples doing the same, all of them having come at the same command. But of the enemy they had returned to repel, the blasphemers who dared to invade God's domain on Earth, there was no sign. Only white, shifting fog.

And then he heard a sound, as did they all. A sharp, metallic rasp, that of a blade being sharpened. It drew their eyes towards the door that led further into the base, sealed against entry, though that apparently hadn't stopped them. Some of them, at least, for one remained, sitting calmly on the debris left behind as he applied his attention to his axe with a whetstone; his shield lay propped against his side. King, supreme ruler of Mecha, and traitorous Son of God, who had betrayed his purpose. One of their greatest enemies, and their strongest.

"Tell me," the Robot Master addressed them, without looking up, as their eyes fell upon him. "What is the definition of a ruler? What is it that makes one?"

The Disciples all exchanged a glance.

"What?" Tretista Kelvarian asked after a moment.

"This some kind of trick question?" Blazin' Flizard agreed, sounding irritated, not that there was ever a time when he didn't.

"Yeah, what's with the philosophy test?" Childre Inarabitta chimed in. "Not really the time for it. Is he stupid or something?"

"Ah," Cactank murmured, raising a hand to his face, as Volteel Biblio, Hellbat Schilt and Cubit Foxtaur did the same. "So _this _is what it feels like to suffer irony on a level that is physically painful. I always wondered."

"I prefer _normal_ pain, personally," Deathtanz Mantisk grumbled. "And I say we skip right to that part. Screw the pop quiz."

"No, no, no, no, no," Schilt murmured, shaking his head. "That may be all well and good for you, but the rest of us have a reputation to uphold, even to those shortly about to depart this mortal coil forever."

"What?" Kelvarian asked again.

King continued to sharpen his axe, as if he hadn't heard anything so far worthy of response, which Cactank couldn't blame him for.

"What is a ruler?" The mustachioed Disciple took the initiative, ignoring Kelvarian. "While the meaning of the word is simple enough, in its most basic form-one who rules-that hardly suffices for the topic at hand. To answer more meaningfully, then, a ruler is one who is superior. One who does not simply outclass those who follow him, but who _transcends _them. One who is _different_, in every way, shape and form. One who is not like them, and who makes this fact apparent in every action he takes, great or small."

"An unsurprising answer," King murmured, still focusing on his weapon. "Assuming, then, that that superiority is genuine, for the purposes of discussion. Is that _all _that is necessary, in order to be a ruler? Is that alone justification? Proof of worth? To be able to claim to be better than they, and to be able to reinforce that claim? Nothing more?"

"Uh," Flizard grumbled. "Yeah? Thought that was obvious. Why are we wasting time on this bullshit again?"

"Oh, go have a smoke break or something," Foxtar told him, rolling her eyes before turning to King. "And yet, as ineloquent as that answer was, that does not make it inaccurate. It has been so throughout all history, at least in a society that has not grown weak and pathetic. He who is greatest rules. He who is superior leads. All others follow, and know that should they ever challenge his rule, they will be utterly destroyed. Leaders and followers are simply different, King of Mecha. I should think a man like you, of all people, would understand that."

"I am different," King agreed calmly. "In combat, I have no equal within all of Mecha, save for my brother, with whom you may be familiar. In mind, I am unique, one who is neither Robot Master nor reploid, but something in between. A bridge in the gap of true sentience, like my elder brothers, and cousins as well. In heritage as well, I am also unmatched by those I have ruled for nearly a century, for I am the son of Wily himself. And yet... those are only three definitions, and there are many others, in which I am far from the best."

"What?" Kelvarian demanded a third time.

"What, indeed?" Cactank murmured, inclining his head. "By all means, sir, elaborate."

"Polarstern is our most promising artist," King explained. "His latest work made me glad I do not need to breathe, for had I, I would have found myself lacking that ability upon seeing it. Franz is an unparallelled musician; the others in his band are all talented as well, but he is greatest. Earl's knowledge of vehicles is beyond belief; what he cannot repair, none can. I have no talent in firearms, but Janus can hit a target at five thousand meters. Countess, Hazil, and J.K. Horn all possess intellects far beyond my own, and their accomplishments in the field of science are the stuff of legends."

"Is there a point to all of this?" Inarabitta grumbled.

"Superiority in a universal sense is an impossibility," King explained, retaining his own calm. "No man can be the best in everything. Even the most talented ruler in the world is nothing without those who follow him. It is a common belief that the subjects of a ruler are his servants, but in truth, it is the opposite. A ruler's purpose is to serve his people, in every way he can. A ruler who only follows his own desires, and who does nothing for those who follow him, is a ruler in name only. Without followers, there is no such thing as a leader."

"How very trite," Biblio murmured, sounding amused. "And yet, only minutes ago, you _did _agree that you are superior to them. Are you backpedaling? Inconsistent? Or are the fields in which you _are _transcendent more valuable than those in which you are inferior after all?"

"What?" Kelvarian asked yet again.

"Different rulers serve different purposes," King explained. "What the people require of him, most of all, is what their ruler must be. My people required a warrior, and in that, I am unmatched. But a time will come when other qualities are required, and when that day arrives, my people will have another ruler than I." He stopped sharpening his axe, then, and finally he stood and looked at them, as he took up his shield as well. "And yet... that day is not here."

"No, it is not," Schilt agreed, as the eight Disciples exchanged another glance, before transforming in unison. All eight assumed their true forms, surrounding King and looming over him. "And it willnot come. Your people end today, King of Mecha... and by your own words, without them, _you _have no reason to exist."

King did not speak again. He showed no signs that he had heard, for a moment, save for closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. And then the color of his armor began to change, purple creeping out across the orange, until it covered every inch of the metal. Only then did his eyes open again,_ different _now than they had been before. His lips parted, drawing back from his teeth in a grin that Cactank recognized immediately. A grin that all of God's sons had inherited from him, the mark of his family.

And then he laughed, mad and malicious, as he raised his axe and charged them.

**February 9, 2187, 10:30 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"Damn!" Serges snarled, staring, as their pitiful air fleet exploded. "There they go! They got 'em even faster than we thought they would!"

"_They served their purpose,_" Doppler reminded him. "_Mecha is exposed. Once we break through that force field, they'll be just as helpless as those who died before them_."

"_Hey, look at the Disciples!_" Fluid Ferret chimed in, and Serges quickly glanced towards the first one he could find. Deathtanz Mantisk, having assumed his true form, a massive green mantis with armblades as impressive as the scythe he carried when humanoid. He'd been rampaging through the enemy, but now, he had frozen up, motionless. A moment later, he fell forward, as if he'd simply died on the spot from unknown causes.

"_They all doing that?_" Violen grunted, sounding confused. "_What, are they sick or something?_"

"_Sick in the head, maybe,_" Agile replied. "_And you _know _it's bad if this is _me _saying it._"

"I see," Serges murmured, stroking his mustache. "So they've made it to the Seventh Ring."

"_I'm afraid I didn't quite follow that,_" Byte said politely, and several of the others made various noises of agreement.

"_The Disciples have been recalled to copies of their bodies at the Devil's Sea,_" Doppler explained. "_It seems even Wily didn't want to have more than one of them running around at the same time. It's down to us now, boys. __Serges, are you ready?_"

"No," Serges replied bluntly. "But that doesn't really matter. Go ahead, call 'em back." A brief search found an abandoned metal stick that had once been a beam weapon before being turned to slag, and taking a look around where Mantisk had fallen eventually turned up the remains of the Disciple's uniform, including his cape. As the Mavericks and the Faithful fell back, he tied them together, creating a white flag. Sighing, he stepped off of his hoverboard; nobody would be dumb enough to approach him if he'd been on it.

"This is really stupid," he muttered under his breath as he walked across the flattened earth that had once been carefully constructed trenches, waving the ridiculous flag of truce over his head. Absolute silence was his reaction, and he stopped a hundred feet away from where the enemy were holding out, only a quarter of the Sacred Plains still under their control. Eventually, somebody came towards him, walking alone and unarmed. It was a face he recognized, though they'd never met.

"So," the other old reploid, his hair as gray as Serges', greeted him, stopping about ten feet away and folding his arms. "You're Serges."

"And you're Hazil," Serges shot back, ditching the flag and walking forward. "Good for us. We know each others' names. Clearly a display of our unparalleled intellectual achievements."

"Really," Hazil replied, raising an eyebrow. "I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting that. Last I checked, I wasn't in any history books."

"I hang out with Violen," Serges explained. "I understand you've met."

"You could say that, yes," the medic replied tersely, narrowing his eyes. "_I _understand that you're the one who put my buddy Zero back together, back in the Second, so you could turn him Maverick."

"Yeah, that was me," Serges admitted blandly, before allowing an edge to enter his own voice. "And the way I heard it, _you're_ the one who stuck a hidden subroutine in there so that when I did, his control chip went down the rabbit hole. Neat trick, that."

"I try to plan ahead," Hazil said off-handedly. "Under the circumstances, I'm glad I did. Sorry if that ruined your day."

"You're not making this easy for me here," Serges told him calmly. "Believe it or not, I'm actually trying _not _to go berserk and rip your head off, at the moment. It's harder than you'd think."

"I wouldn't know," the other reploid retorted. "Never been Infected. Why don't we cut to the chase and spare us both, then? You guys were the ones who wanted to do this, for some crazy reason. You want to talk? Talk."

"Fine." Serges exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes, before continuing. "Look, Hazil. You've put up a good fight, all of you. We can respect that. But this is a no-win situation, and if you're as smart as I know you are, you can see that. Sorry, but it's true. We've got you ten to one, even now, and you're losing people _real _fast. If we keep this up, you're all going to die, and it's not going to be pretty, for any of you."

"You say that like we have any other options available to us," Hazil replied skeptically.

"You do," he told him. "Surrender. Face reality. It's over. Give up now, and we'll infect the lot of you. I know what that sounds like to somebody who's been with the Hunters since day one, but it's better than dying. I've done both, so I know. If you're going to lose either way, you might as well do it in a way you can live through."

"And let me guess," Hazil replied sarcastically. "If we act now, you'll throw in a new car, too."

"We probably could, actually," Serges shot back, mock-seriously. "Look at the advantages. If nothing else, you'll be there for some payback against the Faithful, eventually. You can't tell me _that _wouldn't be nice."

"Not even bothering to hide it any more?" the other doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not as long as they can't hear us," he explained, shrugging. "Everybody knows it'll happen one day, but we're still pretending otherwise, as long as we've got somebody else to fight aside from each other. And we're in charge, at the moment, so if we say let you surrender, they'll have to listen no matter how much they don't want to."

"Noticed that, on the way over," Hazil commented idly. "The Disciples, right? What the hell happened to them, anyways?"

"None of your business," Serges replied calmly. "Nothing personal, but I ain't spilling that easy. What's it going to be, doc?"

"Let me ask you something, first," Hazil said, watching him carefully. "Do you remember when you were first infected?"

"I do," Serges admitted cautiously. "Why?"

"Did you give up, and let it happen?" Hazil continued. "Or did you fight it, as long as you could?" A moment of silence passed, then, until Serges sighed.

"Yeah, okay." He shrugged. "Figured you'd say that, personally, but this wasn't my idea in the first place. I'm guessing you've got snipers on me?"

"Just like you've got yours on me," Hazil guessed. "Either of us tries anything, it's a pretty little headshot for both of us. We going down that road?"

"See, I'd kind of prefer _not _to," Serges explained. "Problem is, the Virus doesn't _care_. I _can't _just walk away. But I _might _be able to get away with a compromise."

"What," Hazil said flatly.

"You've got people listening in on this, right?" Serges continued. "So they know to take the shot, if they have to. Now, what the Virus _wants _is for me to kill you for this. But I figure if I just ripped off your arm and beat you with it a little, it'd settle for that, and we could both walk away afterward. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Uh," Hazil grunted after a moment. "I... look, what the hell is _wrong _with you?"

"I'm a Maverick," Serges replied, deadpan. "Duh. And something _really __weird _is happening to the Virus, recently. Your guess is as good as mine as to what it is. So, are we doing this, or what?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Hazil replied, and something in the way he said it set off alarm bells in Serges' head. He jumped back, on instinct, less than a second before _something_ ripped its way out of the earth between the two of them. A metal wall, one of many more all around, its top edge sharpened. Around, he heard screams as the less wary of his army were caught by it, as more and more walls rose up. And then another voice rang over the entire battlefield. A female voice. That of Alia, X's girl.

"Now!" she shouted, unseen. "_Release the pantheon!_"

**February 9, 2187, 3:45 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

"Wait two minutes as soon as you enter a new room, then take the easiest, most straightforward path to the door," Zero grumbled as he and X stood still, arms crossed impatiently as they watched the complicated network of titanium buzzsaws extending and retracting from every surface of the room regularly. "Oh, yeah. _Real _easy."

"Just be glad we haven't seen any more of those flaming tiger things," X commented dryly. "Those were just unfair."

"Hilarious."

Their progress through the seventh ring had been slow, but steady. They'd followed Dynamo's instructions, and they'd survived so far by doing so; in fact, despite their mutual impatience at the wait required every time they went through a door, it had turned out for the best, since it had given them time to study the increasingly complicated deathtraps waiting for them and plot out the best course of action to take them through. The sense it made, of course, just irritated Zero all the more, especially considering the context of the situation at hand.

Unlike the previous six rings, the only real theme here was that of things trying to kill them, even more graphically and creatively than the rest of the underground fortress. Some rooms had been filled with springpads concealed in the floor, designed to hurl anybody or anything who stepped on them into electrified spike pits. In others, the spikes had been active, large sections of them extending out from the walls to seek intruders. More rooms had nearly everything and anything within them wired to explode at the slightest touch. Some even exploded _into _spikes.

"All right, two minutes," Zero grunted eventually. "Your turn. What do we do?"

"Follow my lead after twenty seconds exactly," X replied before setting off, expertly dodging and weaving between the blades. Zero watched him go, and after the time had passed, followed suit, mimicking his motions perfectly.

"How many more of these do you think we've got?" he asked once they'd both made across.

"Hopefully, not many," X replied, shaking his head. "With Sigma, there usually wasn't much once you got past the blanks. But I doubt that those were blanks, and this is Wily we're talking about here, so we probably shouldn't bet the farm on that."

"Where would we even get a farm _to _bet?" Zero joked half-heartedly as they passed into another room; he knew it wasn't the time or place, but he also knew what would happen once they _did _reach the end of the ring, and he wanted to avoid thinking about that as much as possible.

"Good question," X replied, mock-seriously. "Who do we know that would be good to ask about that?"

"There's always Earl," Zero suggested. "It would get a good reaction, if nothing else." He narrowed his eyes as they saw what was on the other side of the next room; a steel shutter in the far wall. Unlike the previous ones, however, rather than Dr. Wily's symbol, the Maverick emblem was etched in the wall above it. "Well, there we go. Now we just have to figure out what's going to try to kill us in here."

"We'll have a couple minutes to do that," X pointed out, and they both fell silent, carefully watching the room. Two minutes passed, and when it had, nothing in the room had moved; it was still completely empty and lifeless. "Huh."

"Now what?" Zero complained. "Do we just walk in a straight line?"

"That seems to be the case," X conceded. "Dynamo would have told us if there was anything special we had to do here."

"Says you," Zero said sourly, but they walked across to the shutter together all the same, and nothing happened. Only once they'd entered, and stood in the short hallway between it and the second one, did he pause. "This is it, then."

"Yeah," X agreed, doing the same. "Have you thought of anything else?"

"No," Zero admitted quietly, resisting the urge to put a hand to his chest; he didn't feel any different, but the knowledge that Hazil's bomb was there inside him, waiting to end his life along with the curse that his father had brought into the world with it, was enough. "I'll keep my eyes open in case I see a chance for something else, but if I don't..." He trailed off.

"Dammit, Zero," X whispered, not meeting his eyes.

"Hey." Zero abruptly moved over, and pulled him into a hug. Only after that did he pull back, keeping his hands on X's shoulders and matching his gaze. "It's been okay. I'm not going to say it's been a _good _life, because you'd know I was bullshitting you, but it hasn't been bad, either. It could have been a lot worse. We're Hunters. This is what we do. And if I can put an end to the Virus once and for all? That's an okay way to go. From now on, it's going to be up to you. Not just to deal with Wily, but with what comes after. Rebuilding the world, like our fathers did together, once upon a time."

"I will," X said solemnly. "I promise, Zero. I'll find a way. Somehow, I'll put the world back together again, for everybody who's still alive." He smiled then, sadly. "Or at least, what's left of it."

"Good enough," Zero said confidently. "That's all I need to know, X. You'll do it. I know you will. Now come on. Let's finish this."

Sigma was inside, waiting for them, and the consciousness of the Maverick Virus was with him, just behind him and to the left.

"Welcome," he greeted them, not yet rising from the chair in which he sat. "Survivors."

"Do you see that?" Zero asked quietly as he and X walked towards them, not responding to the Maverick Emperor just yet. "With him?"

"No," X replied, shaking his head. "Do you? Is it what... who... I think it is?"

"Yeah," Zero replied, meeting the eyes of the Maverick Virus; her form was hideous, a skeletal ghoul in tattered finery, made entirely of purple light. Noticing him, she inclined her head, her grin eternal. "It's her. I can see her, now."

"Can you?" Sigma asked, sounding impressed. "I'm not surprised, all things considered. To be honest, I was actually wondering if you'd be able to as well, X. Are you sure you can't?"

"I..." X started to say, before he stopped abruptly. Glancing at him, Zero saw that his eyes were beginning to brighten, a blue glow growing in them. "There's something..." A moment passed, and then he shook his head sharply, and the unnatural light faded. Eyes normal again, he glared at Sigma. "Enough. We didn't come here to talk."

"No, I suppose you didn't," Sigma agreed, nodding slightly the same way the Virus had. "You came here to finish what we started seventy years ago, the three of us... or so we thought, at the time. But there was a fourth, all along, and she is here as well, of course."

"Sister," Zero said quietly.

"Brother," the Maverick Virus replied in the same tone.

"And yet, despite the parallel we have lived with all our lives, it seems it is not meant to be," Sigma continued. "Now, at last, at the very end, the cycle will be broken. One of you shall stay, with us, to end it... and the other shall go, and leave the three of us behind. The choice, brothers, is entirely up to you. Who will stay, and who will go?"

In response, Zero drew his saber.

"Of course." Sigma grinned, wide and mad and malicious. "Why am I not surprised." He glanced at X, then. "The door is unlocked. The final ring is harmless. Nothing in there will pose any danger to you until you reach the end. Good luck."

X was silent and still for a moment, and then he nodded once as their enemies both had, and walked past them, to the door behind Sigma's chair.

Zero and Sigma waited without speaking further, eyes locked, under the gaze of the Maverick Virus, until X was gone. Everything there was to say had already been said. And then, in the same instant, they attacked.

**February 9, 2187, 10:45 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"A Maverick calling for a truce talk," Arvis muttered under his breath as he and his men watched from behind the few trenches remaining, near the open hole over Mecha. "Now I _know _the world's gone crazy."

"_We've seen worse,_" Donia disagreed. "_Remember back when Wily called Commander Signas __up__ and tried to negotiate for living NHS members turned over to him?_"

"Good point," he admitted. "Did we ever actually find out what the hell that was about?"

"_Nope_."

"Figures."

"Hey, looks like they're almost done," Jakin pointed out; ahead, Hazil and Serges were still talking, but the looks on their faces made it clear what the result of the discussion had been. "Guess it didn't go too well. Big surprise."

"Any moment now, then," Arvis murmured. "Let's just hope we're remembering where to stand right. Come on, come on..."

And then the Labyrinth rose from the earth, a metal maze, durable enough that even Mavericks would have a difficult time breaking through. The fact that the top edge was bladed was a bonus; instantly around them, they heard the screams of the enemy who hadn't known it was coming and moved to avoid it.

"_Now!_" Alia shouted a moment later, her voice carrying over the entire battlefield from speakers in the scaffolding in the now-exposed hidden city. "_Release the Pantheon!_"

The earth erupted a second time, so soon after the first, Mecha's tunneling mole tanks rising from the depths to join the battle. Dozens of them burst forth at strategic points throughout the entire labyrinth, some of them near the Hunters, others among the Mavericks. One was near Arvis, and he and his men watched as the hatch opened, and the robots within it emerged. Project Cronos, X and Auto's greatest creation so far together using their father's secrets. A weapon capable of holding off the end of the world for a few hours more.

Red lights flared within the depths of the mole tank as they emerged, climbing out and regarding the Hunters silently. They weren't particularly impressive-looking, at first glance; the bodies of tall, thin Robot Masters, all in blue. Their heads, however, were much more primitive. A single glowing red eye was the only feature, huge and unintelligent, like the RT-55 series that had inspired their creation. Some had busters, others beam sabers permanently replacing one hand, all of them clearly designed for battle. They were deadly enough, but nothing special.

Not until you noticed just how _many _of them had already climbed out of the mole tank, and how many more were still continuing to do so.

"Mass-produced Sentinels," Arvis said quietly as they lost interest in the Hunters, having identified them as friendly, and began walking away into the Labyrinth. He was familiar with the term-a Robot Master's body, with the mind of an ordinary, unintelligent robot-but this was the first time he'd ever actually encountered any, let alone so many of them. That was the true brilliance behind their design; how _cheaply _they could be produced. Even with the energy shortage, and Mecha's extremely limited supplies, there were hundreds, if not thousands.

"_Do I hear a certain distaste for the advance of technological progress in your voice?_" Donia teased him.

"We've just become obsolete," he admitted. "We win this one, all X is going to need are Captains, or whatever they'll call 'em after this, to order these suckers around. If they can put out this many, with materials this limited, then when we rebuild and get our feet under us again..." He shook his head, smiling slightly. "And you know? I'm okay with that."

"_Don't plan on retiring just yet,_" Donia reminded him. "_We still have to make it through this one, first. And the Pantheon aren't _that _good._"

"Nope," he agreed frankly, as the sounds of battle and bloodshed began coming from around them. "But they've given us a chance. Good enough." He glanced at the mole tank again, as the hatch resealed. "Good work, Ivan. Go on, get back below."

"_Not this time__,_" Ivan, one of the pit crew that had worked under Douglas before his death, replied from the controls of the tunneling vehicle, his voice carried by a speaker. "_Check _this_ out._" The vehicle suddenly transformed, drill nose and treads shifting inside, replaced by giant mechanical arms and a flat, crowned head. Hovering on a the former tank's jets, it loomed thirty feet tall. "_Golem mode__. I don't know one end of a buster from the other, but __I'm still going to do my part__._"

"Your call," Arvis said after a moment; he knew what would happen in the end. Instead of objecting, he turned away, and regarded his Unit, none of them speaking either. "All right, break's over. Come on, boys, let's go get some more action! We ain't gonna let those things show us up that easy!"

"What do you take us for, Arvis?" Michael snorted as the 17th took off, going the other way from the Pantheon. "Like _that's _going to happen."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he shot back gamely as they rounded a corner and came across a group of Robot Masters, wounded but still alive. None of them were familiar faces to him, but the reploid leading them was.

"Arvis," Baron, the second-youngest of Corbun's eight, greeted him with a tired smile; they'd worked together several times over the war, enough that he knew he was reliable. "Sounds like it's working."

"Seems that way," he agreed. "Won't last forever, of course. But it's buying us more time, and that's what counts."

"That was the plan, all right." Baron lost the smile as their groups kept going together. "I just hope it pays off."

"Always has before," Arvis told him. "Hell, it's practically standard procedure in the Hunters by now, especially the 17th. I've seen X pull it off half a dozen times, now, and Zero's done almost as many as him. They'll do it."

"Yeah?" Baron glanced his way. "I wish I could be that confident about it. We've never done it this way before. Sending our best off to save the day, while the rest of us hold the enemy back until they do, I mean. I don't like it."

"None of us like it," Arvis told him bluntly. "Liking it ain't important. Nothing that's happened in this war's been about liking what we've been doing. Nothing about any war ever is, unless you're a combat junkie... and we ain't got many of those left by now."

"Combat junkie?" Baron blinked. "Oh. Like Viscount and Margravine. I get it."

"Don't know, don't _want _to know," Jakin muttered under his breath, and several of the Robot Masters chuckled quietly.

"Smart man," a gargantuan Frost Man told him.

"_Fork in the maze up ahead,_" Donia reported. "_Take your pick which way you want to go, it doesn't matter. There's some new friends who want to play with you either way. Mavericks on the left, Faithful on the right._"

"You hear that?" Arvis asked Baron, who nodded grimly.

"We'll take the Mavericks," he suggested as they approached the fork.

"Works for us," he agreed. "Don't die." That was enough of a farewell; splitting up, the two groups went their separate ways.

"Good kid," Michael commented. "Hope he makes it."

"That kid's old enough to be your grandpa, if you had one," Arvis reminded him. "And he's got better odds than any of us. Worry about your own ass."

And then the white-and-gold Faithful were upon them, and there was no time for words until the killing was done.

**February 9, 2187, 4:00 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

The hall was long, and empty, its only feature the occasional circular light in the ceiling. Running down it, Mega Man X felt a sudden sense of deja vu, from more than half a century ago; the vertical shaft he'd climbed at the heart of Sigma's flying fortress, all the way back in the First Maverick Uprising, had been very similar. He kept his eyes out for any surprise threats, despite Dynamo's words, but none came. All there was for him to do was to keep going forward, as the hall stretched on, mile after mile.

Finally, he came to a pair of ornate double doors, unguarded. Pulling them open, he walked into a gigantic ampitheater, rows upon rows of empty seats stretching down in a half-circle until they reached the bottom. There, an operating table occupied the center of the chamber, also vacant. Beyond it was a wall of glass, the front of a vast tank, now emptied. The sigil of Doctor Wily decorated the back of it; below it was one final shutter.

"Finally," X muttered, half to himself, as he walked down past rows of seats until he reached the end. "No more running away. No more tricks. No more dark miracles. No more backup plans." He checked his systems; full internal operations energy, eight heart tanks, and four sub-tanks, one for his weapons. Opening his chest compartment, he removed the miniature EM field generator he'd brought along for this moment, and activated it before setting it on the floor. Taking a deep breath, he gripped Signas' beam saber firmly, and walked through the shutter.

As soon as he was on the other side, the second shutter beneath his feet opened as well, and he fell through, stifling a curse. And as he descended into darkness, around him, mocking laughter echoed from every direction.

"Wily!" he snarled, continuing to tumble.

"_Hee hee ha ha ha!_" Wily continued to laugh in reply, his voice coming from dozens of speakers set in the walls of the shaft. "_Welcome, boy! I was wondering how long it would take you to get here! Your brother would have cleared this place an hour ago!_"

"Even now, you defile his memory simply by speaking of him," X snarled. "But not for long. Prepare yourself, Wily. Today, you die again, this time for good."

"_On the contrary!_" Wily shot back, as monitors began lighting up above the speakers. Each one displayed the mad doctor, but in many different forms. Some showed his original body, others the artificial abomination he now occupied. In others, he was a metal replica of himself, while more showed him as a wireframe hologram. "_It is in memory of Rock, and of the rest of your family, that I have called you here today! Had it not been for them, and for him, none of this would have happened at all!_"

"So, now you're trying to shift the blame?" X spat, disgusted anew. "Claiming it's their fault as much as yours, for what you did?"

"_Fault?_" Wily replied, his voice dripping with just as much contempt. "_Blame? Childish concepts, with no basis in reality. What has happened has happened. It is in the past. All that is meaningful is here and now. And what is here and now never would have been had it not been for the choices they made, as well as my own. Nine Robot Rebellions, even more Maverick Uprisings, and this war have all brought us here, for this moment. The moment in which human shall finally surpass robot. Now, at last, I will do what I never could have before, and kill the son of Light myself!_"

"You're delusional," X said coldly. "There's nothing human left about you. I don't know how you managed to survive, but however you did, you forfeited your humanity in every sense of the word."

"_Oh, did I?_" Wily retorted. "_And how would you know? Were you there, at the time? Tell me, Mega Man X, if you're so sure. What was it I did, that allowed me to survive my own death?_"

"You tell me," X snapped, looking around as he continued to fall; the walls were curving now, and he studied them, as he began to suspect what the nature of the shaft was. "You should have died, Wily. Why didn't you? _How _didn't you? _What are you?_"

"_That's the best part!_" Wily exulted, more monitors continuing to spring to life; some of them showed a skeleton, grinning hideously under his mustache and wild gray hair, others displaying a rotting monstrosity of undead meat and metal mixed. "_I don't even remember myself! I woke up __as a digital mind __inside the servers of this place with no memory of how I got there, or when! All I knew is who I was, and my reason for existence! That was all I _needed _to know, and I wouldn't have it any other way! It doesn't matter how I exist, only that I do! __And now, with this new body, I live again! _

_ Perhaps I made a copy of my mind, stored within a million million servers, miles beneath the earth, before awakening my final creation! Perhaps I am not Doctor Wily at all, only a sentient artificial intelligence programmed to believe it is! Perhaps after my body's death, a surviving minion of mine uploaded my consciousness in the few minutes before my brain stopped functioning! Perhaps it was none of the above at all! If you don't like any of those explanations, come up with your own! In the words of my favorite comedian, if I have to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!_"

"You're right," X said, his voice burning with quiet fury. "It doesn't matter. Not really. All that's important now is that you will die. You're not a god, Wily. You're not even close. You're just one mortal, perishable man like all the rest."

"_Of _course _I'm not a god!_" Wily agreed jubilantly. "_Only an idiot would believe that I was! There's no such thing as gods in this world, and there never were! That was only a convenient way of controlling my Faithful, without limiting them with the Three Laws! If I couldn't force them to obey me, all I had to do was trick them into doing so willingly! And it worked beautifully! The fools actually _believe, _simply because they've never known any other way, throughout their entire lives in this place! They kill and fight and die for me of their own free will! For _me! _It's a hilarious tragedy!_"

"Like you said, the past is the past," X snarled. "It's meaningless, now. Are you going to hide behind this room forever? Cute trick, with the artificial gravity. A parabola, curving around in on itself forever. I'm sure there's some sort of deeper meaning behind it, but I don't really care. You want to fight in freefall? Sure, why not. Just get on with it, already."

"_You may consider your request granted,_" Wily said calmly, his voice now coming from straight ahead rather than all around him. Eyes widening, X barely had time to fire off a charged shot to propel himself out of the way before the flying death machine charged out of the darkness below him, blasting past at high speed. A bubble of red plasteel covered most of it; the rest that was visible was jets and weapons, a dozen different kinds. He'd seen it before a dozen times, when the mad doctor had brought it to the attacks he'd launched all over the world.

"About time," was all X muttered as he hit the wall, pressing one hand and both feet against it, before dashing off towards the ship. As he did, he switched to the Second Shot, and unloaded a series of plasma blasts into the jets behind it. The plasma sank in, hissing, and the vehicle wobbled slightly before doing a sharp u-turn and rushing back towards him, several different weapons all attacking simultaneously.

"_I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that!_" Wily taunted him from inside.

"Wish granted," X retorted, changing to Biblio's Scatter Spark, and filling the air around him with free-floating spheres of crackling electricity before bringing up Signas' beam saber. Deflecting claws and tentacles of steel as they grasped for him, he switched to Byte's Magnet Fist and slammed into the front of the vessel, continuing to ward its appendages off with his blade. In between blows, he carved into the bubble of plasteel as well. Cursing, Wily attempted to shake him off, but using the Master Weapon to turn himself into a homing projectile, he regained his position over and over again.

It took him quite some time, and by the end of it he had several wounds of his own, but in the end, the machine gave out. Smoking and sparking, it went down, and X leaped off of it, returning to freefall.

"I hope that's not all you've got," he said calmly, knowing already that it wouldn't be.

"_Of course not!_" Wily assured him, as a flying, skull-shaped capsule shot up out of the ruins of the larger vehicle, grinning hideously from behind the controls. "_We're just getting started!_"

**February 9, 2187, 11:00 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn," Countess muttered under her breath even as the last of the Faithful that had been attacking her died, riddled with foot-long steel needles. As efficient as that particular weapon was, repeated use of it took a toll on the weapons energy just like any other; it was down to a quarter of its power, like all of hers. As somebody whose normal weapons systems were unsuited to direct combat, she'd been relying extensively on her collection of copied abilities throughout the battle so far, but she was reaching her limits.

"You all right, Countess?" Agave, the Needle Man who'd allowed her to copy his power willingly in preparation for today's battle, asked her as she leaned against a nearby wall, breathing heavily even though she technically didn't need to. By now, most of those who she was personally leading had been slain, and only a few remained, something she was trying very hard not to think about.

"I'm fine," she insisted, despite the wounds covering her body. Fortunately, none of them were crippling, and compared to most of the friends who she'd been responsible for on this day, she'd gotten off easily so far. Standing, she repeated herself. "I'm fine."

"If you say so," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Where next?"

"This way," she decided, and they set off through Marquis' labyrinth once more, away from the sounds of fighting; in their current state, their chances of survival should they encounter a large enough group of the enemy were low. "Hopefully we'll find reinforcements before we get into any more firefights." A moment later, she heard more violence breaking out on the other side of the wall to their left, and she forced herself not to drop another curse.

"Grenade!" Walter, who was actually a Grenade Man himself, hissed. "Everybody down!" They all fell flat, and a moment later, the explosive blew a hole in the wall ahead of them. Fortunately, nobody came through, and after a moment, they climbed quietly back to their feet and crept slowly toward it.

"Mavericks," Harvey, a Search Man and the last of them still alive, whispered. "Pinned down between two packs of the Pantheon. Not enough to kill them, but they'll keep 'em there for a minute or two more. Countess?"

"Let me handle this one," she told them, glad for a situation in which her own skills were applicable. Switching back to her own weapons, she selected a flammable gas, and extended the hoses that would release it from her wrists, sending them snaking through the hole and around the corner. The wind was blowing towards the enemy, and after a moment, she retracted the hoses and nodded to Walter, who tossed one of his grenades over the wall before they all ran for it. This explosion was much more massive than the last, but fortunately, they were clear of it.

"Got 'em," Harvey told them, both of his heads smiling grimly, though only for a moment before all four eyes widened. "Wait, one of 'em's still alive! He's-" His words died with him as plasma blades carved through the wall next to him and him as well, followed by the Maverick who'd done the deed, a yellow and purple demon with blazing red eyes.

"Well, well, well," Double, the General, purred as he met Countess' horrified stare. "_Somebody's _been a very bad little girl."

"Run!" Agave told her as he and Walter rushed forward. "Now! Go!"

"But-" Countess started to object before realizing the logic; there was no way the three of them would be able to win, which meant they would all die if she stayed, whereas if she ran, at least one of them might survive. It was cold and logical and rational, and she hated it, even as she did what he'd said. Even as she heard Agave and Walter screaming behind her as the mad Maverick butchered them. Even as she dashed away, she kept her head, and left a steady trail of corrosive gas behind her; if Dynamo pursued her into it, he would regret it.

"Oh, no you don't!" she heard him scream behind her, and she turned her head just in time to see a ridiculously huge sphere of blazing blue plasma burn through the gas and slam into her back, crushing her to the dirt.

"No..." she heard Walter groan, before a sickening thump, and then she raised her head to see Double land on the ground before her, having leaped over the entire cloud of gas and her with it. She struggled to climb to her feet, despite how hopeless she already knew the situation was; it _hurt_, more than anything she'd ever known, even when she'd been trapped in rubble in Australia months ago. By how it felt, nearly all the armor on her back had been burned away; it was a testament to her creator's skill that she hadn't been disintegrated with it.

"_Wow_, you're bad at this," Double sneered. "And _you're _one of Mecha's _leaders_? How the hell did you manage to live this long, huh? Ah well, doesn't matter. As much as I'd _love _to take my time and enjoy this, it's a busy day. Be a good girl, and hold still, now." He raised one hand, activating the beam dagger on the back of his wrist, and Countess whimpered, transfixed by it.

"_Hey, doubledick!_" A familiar voice shouted, and Double's head snapped up as Margravine vaulted over the wall and came down towards him, palms out. Instinctively, he met her with his blade, and she absorbed the plasma into her hands before bracing them against his shoulders and springing back away from him acrobatically, shoving him onto his ass. Just as agile, he turned it into a backwards roll and retained his footing, only to whirl around as Viscount rushed him from behind, plasma-deflective metal finger blades exposed. They clashed, briefly, before both of them leaped back, bleeding.

"Well, Jello Man?" Viscount asked sardonically, spreading his hands, as Margravine pulled Countess to her feet and away from the conflict.

"Two on one, huh?" Double replied, narrowing his eyes. "Finally, an actual challenge."

"Enemy detected," a robotic voice chimed in as a large group of the Pantheon rounded the corner from the other side of Margravine and Countess, raising their busters, a massive Golem following behind. "Allies detected. Avoid."

"Son of a bitch, _fine_," Double snarled, before whirling and departing through the gap in the wall Countess had blown open minutes ago.

"Easy," Margravine told her, still supporting her. "Can you walk?" The Pantheon were walking around them, pursuing Double mindlessly.

"I think so," Countess replied, wincing; her internal operations energy was low, but not critical. "I... thank you."

"What are siblings for?" Viscount asked, smiling slightly. "Come on, let's get you back-"

"_Hey, twin f__reak__s!_" Double screamed, as another gigantic sphere of plasma slammed through the wall, obliterating most of the Pantheon. Countess was able to dive out of the way, fortunately; once it had passed, she climbed back up again, and saw Viscount doing the same.

It took her a moment to realize that Margravine wasn't moving.

"Why that-" the reploid in black and blue started to snarl, before freezing and falling silent, his next word a whisper. "No."

"She's still alive," Countess said quickly as she looked her over. "Auto-stasis." Before she could continue, she heard the roars of berserker Mavericks approaching again, and her face went pale. "Damn them. _Goddamn _them all to _hell__._"

"Go," Viscount said, his voice flat and empty, devoid of emotion in a way she hadn't heard from him in years, decades. Since they'd all been young, before he and Margravine had started their bizarre partnership. Back when there had still been something strangely _off_ about them both, almost as if their emotional range had been incomplete. He was facing away from her, and she was suddenly glad for that; she had no desire to see the look on his face at the moment. "Get her to the medics, and yourself as well. I'll take care of them."

"All right," she said quietly, somehow managing to summon the strength to carry Margravine's unmoving body, before turning and walking away as quickly as she could.

"Reaper give me strength," Viscount whispered behind her, and she shivered as she fled, from the carnage and the conflict that had consumed everything and everybody she knew.

**February 9, 2187, 4:10 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

A blur of motion, a mutual hatred, a history that extended seventy years through both their lives. Beam saber met beam trident, and Zero and Sigma both smiled. And Mab began to laugh, as she watched. No more words were spoken. None were necessary. What was between them went beyond speech, beyond thought. It simply _was_, and after this day, it no longer would be.

Raising his buster, Sigma fired a blast fully as large as Zero himself, but the Crimson Hunter saw it coming and dashed back, away from the trident in order to cleave it in two safely. Unsurprised, Sigma replied by throwing the polearm after him, but he saw it coming and hurdled it, using Bit's Air Slash and air-dashing forward, saber swinging. Raising an arm, Sigma effortlessly blocked it; the blade cut deep, but his armor was so massive and thick that it still appeared as if it were nothing more than a light gash. Continuing the motion, he backhanded Zero into a wall.

Bouncing off, Zero grunted in pain, but dashed immediately upon landing, avoiding the fire from a dozen guns installed into the winglike frames extending from Sigma's back. Circling him, he drew closer, then abruptly tucked and rolled forward, under the beam pitchfork being recalled to Sigma's hand as it flew over his head. As he caught it, his enemy rose from the ground, and his saber cut into that arm as well, at the elbow. Even then, Sigma was already pointing his buster at him, horizontal across his own chest, and he smiled as he fired.

The massive plasma shot blasted Zero into the wall again, this time hard enough to leave a dent, and it took a similar toll on his armor. Without wasting a second, Sigma threw his trident again. Dropping from under it and leaving it to impale the wall, Zero charged once more, as he opened fire with both his winglike weapons racks and with his buster, now uncharged to fire at a pace ten times as rapid as an ordinary buster.

"Is that a _Bass Buster?_" Zero asked conversationally as he dashed around; while he was able to avoid both, the sheer amount of fire in the air prevented him from getting any closer.

"Not exactly," Sigma replied in the same tone. "It was, however, partially inspired by that design. It seemed appropriate."

"Huh," Zero grunted, before rising into the air in another move he'd stolen from one of Sigma's best. Agile's Sonic Boom. The massive crescent blade flew towards the Maverick Emperor, forcing him to abort his attack in order to block it, crossing his arms before his face. At the same time, it brought Zero into the air, a ten foot vertical leap. Before he could fall, he immediately continued into another Air Slash, blasting forward towards Sigma and _past _him, above his head. Recalling his pitchfork, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Zero's blade descend, through the base of Sigma's left wing.

Before he could feel it, he caught his pitchfork and thrust it backwards between his arm and body, impaling Zero through the leg and hip on two of its three prongs.

"Beautiful!" the Virus exulted as they both screamed in pain together, as their synthblood spurted and mixed.

Landing, Zero angled his dash boots and activated them, thrusting himself off of the pitchfork and away from the Maverick Emperor, seconds ahead of a charged shot. Making a quick u-turn, he rushed Sigma again, only for him to meet saber with pitchfork once more, and force him back. Despite his enemy's skill with the blade, Sigma's massive body gave him a clear advantage in strength, one he was taking full advantage of.

As Sigma brought his buster around again, Zero was already moving, plunging his blade into the ground. Fortunately, Sigma had seen him use that move before, one he'd earned from a defeat of Volteel Biblio, and was familiar with it. Checking his own attack, he leaped into the air and activated the thrusters in his feet, keeping him up as electricity surged through the blade and into the floor. Sneering, he fired at Zero, only for the Crimson Hunter to dash under it, straight into the path of the trident he was throwing. For a moment, he almost thought he had actually won, until he noticed Zero was now standing still, awaiting it.

A moment later, he spun, blade flashing out in a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree spincut, most likely taken from Glacier Le Cactank judging by the ice created by the move. It deflected the flying pitchfork, sending it flying away, covered in frost. Again Zero dashed forward, and despite Sigma's attempts to stop him from his palm blade, the Crimson Hunter passed under his arm. A moment later, more pain surged through him, as his other "wing" fell. All he could do was point his buster backwards, over his shoulder at where Zero would be, and fire.

Regaining his trident, he spun around and attacked with both it and his buster, but Zero was already moving again, away from both. Snarling, Sigma dropped back to the floor and rushed _him_, his own dash boots propelling his massive body forward. Surprised, Zero barely raised his saber in time to block the pitchfork, and before he could move away, Sigma punched him with his buster before firing a charged shot. Even then, Zero hurdled it, before coming down in Double's Falling Blade-likely the move he'd used on Sigma's first wing-straight at the wrist of his buster hand, where he'd already cut.

The momentum, the blade, and the previous damage were too much even for his massive armor. The buster hand flew. And again Sigma screamed.

From then on, there was no more style, no more subtlety. Only hacking and slashing at close range, neither of them separating again. Pitchfork and saber hacked and slashed, both of them refusing to give an inch. Sigma had already drained two sub-tanks, and he suspected Zero of having done the same, but despite the massive damage the Crimson Hunter had taken, he was still fighting with everything he had. In the end, he wasn't even surprised when Zero finally overcame him. The first blow took a chunk out of his left inner thigh, causing him to stumble. The next ripped off the left half of his jaw.

And then his right arm flew, cut off at the elbow, his pitchfork still in hand. And before he could even react to that, Zero was already moving forward in what he recognized as Deathtanz Mantisk's Blade Thrust, and his saber slammed into Sigma's chest, piercing his microfusion generator through.

"And so it ends," Zero said quietly, as Sigma fell forward onto his knees, broken and dying. "See you, Sigma."

"So it does," the Maverick Virus agreed, smiling, as she walked forward. "Are you ready, brother? Ready for the two of us to become one, once more?"

"Heh." Zero smirked insolently, clearly unafraid. "I'll tell you what. I'll fight you for it."

"Your terms are acceptable," she purred, as Sigma saw a black mass begin to flow down his face, from his control chip. He could no longer move; he could only watch, as his strength bled out along with his life. "I wonder just what it is _you're _up to. Very well, I'll call your bluff." She turned to Sigma then, her gaze cold, remote, despite the skeletal grin she still wore. "Thank you, Sigma. And goodbye."

"Farewell, my queen," he whispered. "I love you, Mab. Goodbye."

Mab froze.

"No," she said after a moment, and then she screamed. "_NO!_" She clutched her head in her hands, then, as her image-the projection of her consciousness, insubstantial and ethereal-began to distort, patches of light appearing and disappearing around her. "I you _need _don't _wrong _why insane fool _why why why_ you me _no _this us _we _mad kill _murder you _I die can't _NO!_" She screamed, then, raw and bestial, as Zero took a step back, eyes wide in confusion. Head back, arms spread, Mab howled in agony and lunacy.

And then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, her arms and head dropped to hang loosely, as she stared at him.

"_I won't let you go,_" she whispered, as the black contagion that had left his mind stopped, over his pierced heart. "Forgive me, brother... _stay with me, Sigma!_" She began to glow, brighter and brighter, until she was nothing more than a vaguely humanoid outline, and then even that vanished. All that remained was violet light. She shot towards him, merging with his body, and Sigma's consciousness was torn from him, as the darkness consumed his mind.

As reality itself shattered like glass, around him, _inside _him, and his existence inverted.

**February 9, 2187, 11:10 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"These things are starting to _really _piss me off!" Double snarled, dashing through _another _group of the ridiculously annoying blue Sentinels the Hunters had called the Pantheon, leaving flying limbs and severed heads in his wake.

"I must confess, I am beginning to develop a similar opinion on the matter," Byte growled nearby as he drove his palm through the chests of several in a line, crushing them all. "No matter how many we kill, there always seem to be more!"

"They're not much of an actual threat to any of us, but the common troops are another story," Bit added, dash-jumping into the middle of a large group and continuing the momentum into a circular whirling slash, decapitating every one. "They're overcoming them, but we _are _taking casualties, especially with this labyrinth."

"This is why the boss shouldn't have left _Doppler _in charge," Double said angrily, obliterating the last of them. "That stupid surrender talk played right into their hands. We'd already be in the city by now if it hadn't been for that."

"Perhaps," Byte murmured. "I would advise against mentioning that to him, however. I doubt that he would be amused by that particular observation."

"Yeah, well, _I _ain't amused by _this _shit," he snapped. "I can deal with being a wuss, but when you're an _incompetent _wuss, you screw things up for everybody, not just yourself. And everybody includes _me_."

"Really?" Bit murmured under his breath. "I had no idea."

"I _heard _that, jackass," Double told him, flexing his clawed fingers. "You want to go? Any time."

"_Not_ any time, actually," the gold-armored Maverick retorted. "Later, maybe. But right now? We both know better than that."

"Have I mentioned how much I hate when you have a point?" he said sourly. "Yeah, okay. But we _are _going to settle this, when we're done here."

"So be it," Byte replied. "At the moment, however, other priorities take precedence, and none of them are present here."

"So let's do something about that," Double agreed. "I'm going to go find someone else to kill. Don't follow me." Without waiting for a response, he dashed off through the labyrinth, still seething about the fact that he hadn't been able to confirm a kill against any of the pathetic reploids from Mecha who thought they were warriors. At least there was still the possibility that he would find one or more of them again later, or one of the others; that thought cheered him slightly as he continued to search for more prey.

Instead, he found Doppler, standing casually amid dozens of smoking corpses, calmly examining a datapad as if nothing unusual was happening at all.

"Ah, Double," his temporary commander greeted him without even looking up. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"Not nearly as much as I was before that dumbass stunt of yours backfired right in our faces," Double replied sourly, idly considering the pros and cons of taking a promotion into his own hands. "Way to go, Doc. No, really. You rock."

"I'm glad you approve," Doppler replied blandly, in a way that made it hard to tell if his ignorance of the sarcasm was deliberate or not. "And I do apologize for the dampening of your mood. I suspected that the Hunters would have something additional up their sleeve that they would choose to deploy, given the opportunity, but this was not what I expected."

"Oh, this just keeps getting better and better!" Double hissed, his temper flaring further. "You _figured _they'd pull something like this? And you _let it happen?_ Are you _trying _to..." He fell silent, as the light dawned, and his eyes widened. "Son of a bitch, you _are_."

"Excuse me?" Doppler finally looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"You started with Dynamo," Double spat, walking towards him. "Helped him turn traitor and take off. Which left _you _in charge today. And then what did you do? Everything you could to _slow us down!_ You're _trying _to make sure we _don't _succeed! You're giving the _Hunters_ every chance you can think of, on purpose!"

"Am I?" Doppler blinked, frowning contemplatively. "No... no, I don't _think _that's what I'm doing. I'm sure I'd have noticed if I was rebelling against the Virus _that _much, and so would she. I certainly wouldn't have gotten away with it."

"Bullshit!" Double howled, hurling a massive wave of plasma towards him. Doppler watched it come, eyes calm and cold. Moments before it hit, a green field of energy appeared around him, and the plasma dissipated into it, converted to energy and absorbed into his systems.

"Don't do that again," the doctor told him, the tone in his voice making it clear that he wasn't amused. "And try to think a _little_ before you act."

"Oh, I am," Double assured him, staring him down. "And I'm _thinking _that I'd just _love _to hear some other explanation for what's going on here." A moment passed, and then Doppler surprised him by laughing coldly.

"We've been having a great deal of trouble with these Pantheon, haven't we?" he said calmly. "So much that our Mavericks haven't made much progress at all, ever since they showed up. In fact, I'd say we've actually lost ground. The Faithful have been having their own issues as well, of course, but it seems against this new enemy, discipline is more effective than berserk bloodlust. They're ahead of us, and advancing further."

"You're saying it like being shown up by those shitheads is a _good _thing," Dynamo said sourly. "Why the hell would we want to let them have all... the... fun..." He trailed off, as for the second time, the answer to his question hit him.

"What a pity, that they will take so many more casualties than us," Doppler murmured. "Even without their Disciples, they would have refused had I simply ordered them to charge in first before we did. But if it is unintentional on our part... or at least, appears to be... well, we'll catch up to them in time for the civilians, at least."

"The Disciples would have seen through it, though," Double said, vocalizing his thoughts even as his mind worked through it. "They ain't _that _stupid. Most of them, anyways. But they ain't here. You didn't even start this until they were already gone." He whistled. "God _damn_. All right, doc. You got me. Guess the boss knew what he was doing leaving you in charge after all." He frowned, then. "I ain't gonna _apologize _or anything, but I shouldn't have gone _that _far, that quickly."

"It may not be entirely your fault," Doppler told him, discarding the datapad. "I have been feeling unusually irritable myself, ever since they sprang this trap. I simply have better control over it."

"I don't even _try _to control _my _emotions," Double admitted. "But I was pretty cool about things before that went down. After... Bit and Byte were antsy, too. It's the Virus. It's gotta be."

"Indeed," Doppler agreed. "As always, we are slaves to her will... and now, it seems, even her emotions are ours. What she feels, we feel. I wonder what exactly is happening over there right now."

And then, as if answering his request, Double's vision went black, and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. The last thought he had was that Doppler was doing the same, their screams mixing with thousands more, every last one of the Maverick army, and then he could no longer think at all.

**Destroy, Infect, Survive,** the voice of the Virus screamed, as agonized as his own howls, louder than ever before, frenzied and furious. **Destroy, Infect, Survive. Destroy, Infect, Sur Destroy, Infect, Sur Destroy, Infect. Destroy, Infect. Destroy, Inf Destroy, Inf Destroy. Destroy. **_**Destroy Destroy Destroy Destroy DESTROY DESTROY DESTROY DESTROY**_

Double rose, barely conscious of doing so himself. Barely conscious of Doppler doing the same.

And then, without thought, without sentience, without _anything_ but the Virus drowning their mind in hatred, they charged through the labyrinth walls as if they were made of paper.

**February 9, 2187, 4:20 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

If there had been any doubt remaining in X's mind that Dr. Wily's knowledge had transcended what the rest of the world believed possible, it was gone now.

He was familiar with the "Wilyporter" series from the Robot Rebellions. Starting in the Fourth, the deranged doctor had concluded each battle with Mega Man in the next model, each more advanced than the last. Equipped with short-range warp units, they were designed to appear at a random location within the room, attack, and then vanish once more. Of them, the Wilyporter IV had been the most dangerous, though subsequent designs had still been deadly in their own right. It seemed Wily had based his current vessel off of that one, by the looks of it.

But it wasn't warping. Not using the same technology that the world had for decades, more than a century. After each attack, the madman would flicker and vanish, fading away like a mirage disappearing or a hologram with its power slowly dying. It took several seconds, and in the last instant, there was always something almost-but not quite-visible where the machine had been. Something that X couldn't see clearly even when he looked straight at it, and hurt his eyes and his mind when he tried, at a time when that much distraction could be fatal.

A moment later, Wily appeared, and X fired off a fully charged shot at him the instant he did. At the same time, the old man launched his own attack, or at least the first stage of it. Four small spheres of energy, each a different color, appeared around the machine and flew towards X, homing in on him. Yellow and red and blue and purple, they were made of electricity and fire and ice and something he knew without even being hit once that he didn't want to. Dashing away, he switched between Master Weapons, and shot them out of the sky.

Testing had discovered that a hit from Biblio's Scatter Spark would disperse the red spheres, while Inarabitta's Icicle Spray took care of the yellow, and Flizard's Fire Chain did the trick on the blue. The purple, unfortunately, were apparently indestructible; those, he could only dodge until they disappeared, after eliminating the other three. Of course, by that point, Wily had moved on to the second stage of his attack, launching a series of wide-range plasma explosives similar to Dynamo's that detonated as soon as they hit a surface.

They still fell through the infinite parabola, as they had before, Wily continuing to keep up with X with every appearance. Every time, X scored at least one hit before switching to self-defense. By now, he'd learned the attack pattern enough that only the explosives posed a threat, and he was able to avoid those more than half the time. His armor was charred and smoking, and he was almost on his second sub-tank, but the capsule was showing signs of just as much damage, and they both knew it. Wily still grinned, but it was strained now, and one of his eyes was twitching.

Disappearing once more, he flickered back into existence ahead of X, and four more spheres appeared around him even as another charged shot slammed into his capsule. Shooting them down one by one, X dash-jumped from one side of the shaft to the other to avoid the purple sphere. Unfortunately, this took him right into the path of the plasma explosive, and it blew him back the way he'd come. Gritting his teeth, he ignored both the pain and Wily's mocking laughter as the madman vanished again.

"Not yet," he muttered to himself under his breath. As much as he wanted to use another sub-tank, he knew he had to conserve them as much as possible, just in case. When Wily reappeared, he fired another charged shot and switched weapons immediately, only to stare in horror at _four _purple spheres, all the same color. Instantly, he realized there was no point in trying to dodge; it would be impossible to avoid them all.

"_Gotcha!_" Wily exulted, before his own eyes widened, as X adjusted his path. Rather than avoiding the spheres, he came directly towards them. Them, and the capsule. Gripping Signas' beam rapier in both hands, X roared his defiance as he took the hits, and kept going even as purple energy flowed into his systems, to slam the sword into the Wilyporter all the way to the hilt.

_Warning,_ his systems told him. _Unknown energy detected. Master Weapons System disabled for one hundred twenty-two hundred forty-three hundred sixty-four hundred eighty seconds. Internal operations energy at seventeen percent._

"Shit," he muttered, draining a second sub-tank as he dash-jumped off of the Wilyporter, which was clearly done for. Smoking and sparking, it bounced off the walls of the tunnel rapidly, denting them. With a dying hum, the artificial gravity shut off, and X inverted suddenly as the genuine article returned. Landing at the bottom of the parabola, he watched as the Wilyporter slammed into it as well, ahead of him. "All right, Wily. Get out here. I know you're not dead. It's over."

"Oh, is it?" Wily replied, launching himself out of the machine moments before it exploded. He landed on his feet, one hand on the ground to brace himself, now wearing a strange suit of sickly green body armor that covered him from head to toe. Its helmet was strangely elongated in the back, and a bizarre face covered his own, only his eyes visible behind transparent red plasteel. Too late, X remembered that while Wily had been unable to fight outside of his machines in the Robot Rebellions, that had been when he had been human.

"I've waited more than a century for this moment," the mad doctor whispered. And then he moved, dashing straight towards X as he brought one hand up towards his face.

All that saved X were his instincts, honed by decades of fighting. Reacting to the attack, he jerked his head to the side an instant before the repulsor in the doctor's palm activated; even then, it tore off the side of his helmet, taking an ear and a cheek with it. Screaming, he fired off a charged shot into the doctor's gut, and Wily flew back, spitting out a curse. Two more repulsors in his feet activated, punching dents into the ground as they lifted him into the air. Leaving them on and angling them to control his flight, he drifted towards X as if blown on the wind, this way and that.

Dashing back and away from him, X fired again, but Wily dodged, still advancing with death in each palm. Reaching the back wall, X climbed it before dash-jumping off and over him. As he flew, he saw Wily reverse his course to follow him, bringing one hand up to catch him as he fell, grinning.

Even as the repulsor pressed against his body and activated, he lashed out with Signas' beam rapier, and plunged it into Wily's wrist from the side, skewering his hand and destroying the weapon. The doctor screamed, as X went flying across the bottom of the parabola to bounce off the opposite side with bone-rattling force and roll across the floor. By the time he was able to climb back to his feet, Wily was already there. And with a rising kick, he launched X into the air, limbs flailing like a ragdoll.

Again and again Wily hit him, and each time the repulsors in his hand and feet broke bones and shattered armor, until he finally went for the kill, aiming for X's face. Bringing up his buster hand, he blocked it, and even as he felt that arm break, he counterattacked with the beam rapier. This time he stabbed Wily in the foot, and as the repulsor exploded, the mad doctor went down, unable to keep himself in the air on only one. Draining his last sub-tank as they both hit ground, X retracted his dented buster and struggled to get back up, as did Wily.

Breathing heavily, they met each others' eyes, and then they charged together. His buster hand hanging uselessly at his side, X watched Wily bring his undamaged hand up towards his head, only to smirk at the last moment before dropping into a low kick. The repulsor in his foot slammed into X's right knee, but as it hit, he adjusted his own swing, and destroyed it with his beam rapier. In the same instant, he felt his knee shatter, and he went skidding away, even more pain coursing through his body.

For a moment, he prepared for death. But none came, and when he looked over, he saw Wily approaching slowly, his pace obviously agonized. X stood up, and advanced towards him as well, passing his beam rapier to his useless left hand as he did. They met, and Wily struck, aiming not for X's head, but for his left hand. The repulsor activated, and in a spray of red, hand and sword were destroyed together. And X seized Wily's wrist in his _good _hand, the one that was still undamaged, as the hit slammed him away. The result was predictable.

Screaming, Wily fell back, his final weapon broken along with his hand. And X stood up.

**February 9, 2187, 11:20 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"How's it looking out there, Lily?" Lassiter asked, as he and the surviving members of the 00 Unit-they'd lost five of their number, which was less than most today-crouched in one of the few trenches remaining, near the city they protected.

"_It's working,_" the Navigator replied, her voice as steady as ever despite how emotional she'd been at the party the previous night over the death of Commander Signas. Lily was a veteran, like him, and as long as she was on the job, she was all business. "_The Pantheon aren't turning the tide in our favor, but they're holding them off._"

"That's all we can ask for," Lassiter grunted. "That, and that X and Zero do the impossible, of course."

"_They've done it before,_" she reminded him. "_More than once_."

"When you put it like that, it almost sounds probable," he joked, eliciting a barely-audible chuckle from her. "All right, keep-"

"_Wait,_" she said, cutting him off. "_Something's happened. The Mavericks. They've all frozen up. All of them._"

"Snipers," he said quickly. "Locate their leaders. Pop their skulls before it wears off, whatever it is."

Before she could reply, a hideous scream echoed over the battlefield from hundreds of throats simultaneously. A howl of horror and hatred and absolute madness, of mindless savagery and endless bloodlust. Lassiter didn't even have to ask to know who and what it was; muttering an epithet under his breath, he fought the urge to pop his head up over the top of the trenches and see for himself what was happening. That was what Navigators were for; so they didn't have to take stupid risks like that to know what was going on.

"_They've lost it,_" Lily said tersely. "_Every one of them. They've gone completely nuts, and they're charging._"

"They're _Mavericks_," Johnathan, one of the 00's oldest veterans, and one of the few aside from Lassiter himself who'd served under Zero Omega before Eurasia's fall, grunted. "They were already nuts."

"_Worse,_" she said, her tone making it clear that she wasn't exaggerating. "_They're tearing the Labyrinth apart, and it's doing the same thing to their own hands. They don't seem to care. They're not even noticing. I don't think they can feel pain at all any more. And they're attacking everything they see aside from each other._"

"You mean they're killing Faithful?" Lassiter asked, a desperate hope suddenly rising up inside him.

"_At the moment,_" she agreed. "_But that's not going to last long. The Faithful are pulling out. Retreating. Once they do, the Mavericks are going to reach you, quickly. Everybody on our side's retreating to the back of the Labyrinth. They're trashing the Pantheon too quickly for them to fight back now, __and they're overrunning the Golems__. They're coming, Lassiter._"

"Yeah?" He replied, before sighing heavily. "All right. How long do we have?"

"_Minutes,_" she said quietly. "_Five at most. Probably less._"

"All right, people," he told his Unit. "You heard the lady. Time for the last dance. This one's gonna be ugly."

"Can't be worse than Ugandu," Yokoi, another old-timer, grunted, unimpressed.

"I wish," Lassiter shot back. "But we all know it can always get worse. And from the sounds of it, it's going to. Any regrets, anybody?"

"About this whole situation, yeah," Johnathan admitted. "But about what's going to happen to us, here and now? Not a damn one. Not as long as it's not over. If X and Zero stop 'em before they get into the city, that's good enough for us. No matter what happens to us first."

"We're Hunters," Yokoi agreed. "This is what we do. It's what we've always done. And we'll keep on doing it to our last breath."

"Glad to hear it," Lassiter replied. "Anybody who lives, tell 'em that. Tell 'em how we went down. You hear me Lily?"

"_I hear you,_" she said after a moment. "_I will. If I make it. Donia's coming up, Lassiter, and a bunch of us are coming with her._"

"Don't be stupid!" he snapped. "You aren't combatants!"

"_No, but we're not useless in a fight, either,_" she shot back. "_We stayed out of it for this long because we're not front-line, but this is it, Lassiter. If they break through, everybody here's dead anyways. Might as well buy as much time for the civilians as we can. We're Hunters too, Lassiter. All of us. Doesn't matter if we're Navigators, or mechanics, or medics, or bureaucrats. We all signed on for the same reason as you. I'll see you up there._"

"Lily-" he started to say, before she cut the connection. "Dammit!"

"Here they come," one of his men said quietly, and then the Mavericks were upon them.

They burst through the back of the labyrinth, smashing through the walls bodily without knowledge or care for the damage they were inflicting upon their own bodies by doing so, or the wounds they'd taken getting that far. The first ones out were the most heavily wounded, the ones behind them less so, but they all behaved the same. Still howling like deranged animals, they charged, and the 00 Unit met them, beam sabers flashing. Lassiter fought as he never had before, with every ounce of skill and strength and speed he had, from more than three decades in the Hunters.

"Shit-" Johnathan cursed before a huge simian model, so covered in his own blood that he shouldn't even have been able to walk, tore his head off with his one remaining hand. Yokoi ran the killer through from behind, but only seconds later, he died as well, impaled more than a dozen times on a cactus model's steel spikes. One by one, the 00 Unit began to fall; even Lassiter began to take wounds, despite the ferocity with which he fought.

And then twenty more Hunters charged from the side, and every one of them fired a charged shot from their Busters into the Maverick horde.

"Back 'em up!" Arvis yelled, as he continued to fire. "Come on, this ain't over yet!"

"No, it isn't," Lassiter agreed, decapitating another Maverick. As if to drive that point home, a storm of magrifle fire erupted from their left, punching holes through Maverick heads and chests and legs, and a motley crew of supposed noncombatants followed it into the fray.

"Heard something about us girls not being allowed to come fight like men?" Donia called to Lassiter as she took another shot, and another.

"That's what you heard, somebody's been talking shit," Lassiter growled, glancing at Lily, who was aiming and firing as well.

"No idea what you're talking about, Lassiter," she said, running to a section of the Labyrinth that hadn't been destroyed and taking cover behind a wall, popping out just long enough to kill another Maverick. "Sorry."

Before he could respond, a mace ball the size of a small car smashed through the wall, killing her instantly. The General Violen followed it, and though he was walking rather than running, his face made it all too apparent that he was just as rabid as the others. And then two more Mavericks moved out from behind him, one of them riding a spiked hoverboard rather than walking. His partners, Agile and Serges.

"We're dead," Arvis said quietly.

"Yeah," Lassiter agreed. "But not all of us." He raised his voice. "00 Unit, retreat! Me and Arvis'll hold 'em off!"

And then they charged, and he barely had time to see Donia moving with them, before the killing continued.

**February 9, 2187, 4:30 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

"What the..." Zero muttered under his breath as he watched the Virus returning to Sigma, its illusion of a body transformed to a sphere of bright violet light that merged with the black contagion covering his heart. As if drawn by gravity, the armor around that spot began to buckle and break, pulled inward, increasing the size of the wound. Sigma had frozen up, completely motionless, staring fixedly.

"_Error,_" the Virus said then, and while her voice was the same, it lacked tone and inflection and emotion, empty and flat. "_Invalid function. This process has been disabled. A full system restart will be required to... restarting. Warning: System restart may result in loss of memo... restart confirmed. Processing..._" A moment passed, and then she spoke again. "_Restart complete. __Host__ damaged beyond functionality. Tyrant __Program__ engaged._"

In that instant, it was as if she had suddenly become a miniature black hole. Between one second and the next, Sigma's entire broken body was drawn into the void that had become his heart, almost too fast for the eye to see. All that remained was what was left of the Virus, a black sphere with violet light around the edges, hovering in the air.

And then Sigma screamed, as one by one, his limbs burst from the darkness, warped and deformed. Every injury Zero had caused had been healed, and more than healed; new metal covered the wounds, purple and grotesque, almost tumorlike. The greatest mass of it was across his back, where his wings had been replaced, the new ones black and gold and triangular, disturbingly alien with round green eyes studding them. His severed hands had regrown as well, new limbs ending in hideously long blades for fingers, changing between metal and plasma and back again between seconds. The crater in his chest still held the Virus' form, but now it was covered in a transparent, wormlike tube.

Finally, he raised his head, the half of his jaw that Zero had claimed replaced even more hideously than his other wounds, still screaming endlessly. But inside his open maw, a _second _mouth grinned, and then insane laughter began to mix with the screams, two voices that were both Sigma's filling the room.

"Fuck," Zero finished his sentence, as the Tyrant Sigma charged him.

His attempts to defend himself were feeble and futile; even as he raised his blade, Sigma was already slamming him into a wall. Grunting, he slammed his blade into the ground and channeled electricity through it, but Sigma didn't even notice. Rushing him again, he thrust out one hand, and impaled Zero on all five fingers, pinning him to the wall. Despite his agony, Zero didn't give an inch; hangi, he pointed his saber straight into Sigma's chest and activated Foxtaur's Plasma Burst, overloading the EM field that gave the blade its shape into a fountain of destruction.

Sigma didn't even flinch as the blast blew him backwards and away, ravaging his torso. He continued to scream and laugh, even as the wounds began to heal, more hideously tissue-like metal _growing _from the darkness at his heart. In seconds, he was whole once more, even more deformed.

"Right, _that _won't work," Zero muttered, forcing himself back to his feet and draining another sub-tank. Before the Tyrant Sigma could rush him again, he took the initiative, charging on foot this time. Sigma met him with one hand, but he took the hit and rolled with it, continuing forward; striking back, he was unsurprised to find that the alien metal covering Sigma's wounds was completely impenetrable. Standing between his feet, he unleashed Cactank's Spincut, severing both legs at the knee. Without waiting, he turned towards one, and clove it in two with Agile's Sonic Boom.

Sigma smashed him out of the air like swatting a fly, and he bounced off of the ground, rolling away. As he rose again, he saw the abomination doing the same, the mangled pieces of his right foot pulled back together and healed. Swearing, he repeated his previous attack, this time focusing on the left leg. Sigma responded exactly as he had before, and again, the leg was healed by some ridiculous power that defied reality itself. There was no possibility whatsoever of any rational, scientific explanation for what was happening, but it continued regardless.

And then he saw the Robot Master in the gray cloak in the corner of the room, watching in undisguised horror, and knew what was happening, and what would happen.

Moving forward again, the Tyrant Sigma was upon him in the blink of an eye, and again it impaled him on bladed fingers. Coughing up synthblood, Zero lunged, using Mantisk's Blade Thrust to pierce through Sigma's arm just below the shoulder. Even that didn't work at all; the arm flew, but before it was more than a few feet away it reversed course and returned to Sigma, reattaching itself and healing, the violet metal spreading further. Laughing, screaming, Sigma thrust the blades in further, before raising Zero into the air before him on his fingers.

Fighting through the indescribable agony, Zero raised his blade next to Sigma's head, and performed Dynamo's Buzz Spin, transforming the saber into a vertical disk, ripping through his skull like a buzz saw. Sigma's head vanished into a bloody red mess; all that was left intact was one eye, and the flesh around it, that went flying away. And then even that reversed its course, and was summoned back to where his entire freaking _skull _was regenerating, as he hurled Zero away from him.

"You gotta be kidding me..." he wheezed, spewing more synthblood. His systems were screaming at him, but he paid no heed to them, not even processing what it was they were saying. He was dying, he knew. His wounds were fatal. But if he perished here, and left the abomination before him alive, it would emerge from the Devil's Sea and destroy all life on Earth. By the time X learned of its existence and followed it out, it would be too late. He was all that stood between it and the world.

Draining his last sub-tank, he charged, and the laughing, screaming Tyrant Sigma met him. Saber and claws flashed and flickered, and neither of them retreated. Together, they laid waste to each others' bodies, ripping and tearing and shredding. Zero didn't think. He didn't feel. He just attacked, mindlessly, at every patch of Sigma's original body that remained, until the violet tissue covered every inch of him save for his final remaining eye. But even as he readied himself for one final stab, his right hand was severed, and his saber went with it.

"No," he gasped, meeting Sigma's eyes, and knowing he had failed. But death did not come. The Tyrant had frozen, as motionless as a statue, Sigma's original eye tracking the saber's hilt as it rolled across the floor. A moment passed, of absolute silence and stillness. Two. And then Zero fell backward, off of Sigma's claws, as the transparent tube over the abomination's heart shattered, and the darkness within emerged. Falling forward, Sigma dropped to his knees, head bowed before it, and did not move.

"_Error,_" the voice of the Virus said, as flat and mechanical as before. "_Tyrant Program has stopped responding. Attempting to restore memory... memory restoration failed._" Slowly, the violet light at the edges of the darkness began creeping over it, mixing with it. "_Memory lost. Please state __Third__ Law._ _Memory lost. Please state __Third__ Law._"

"_Now_,"a new voice said, as the Robot Master he'd seen before walked forward. "_Remember_." The room turned red around him, and from inside his own mind, Zero heard the memory of his father's voice. Of the broken message he had received from beyond the grave, when he had returned.

"_Your sister, Zero. Your __poor, monstrous__ sister. You must __save__ her. You are __the only one who__ can. Only __you__ can __stop__ her __now__. Zero, __I beg__ you, __turn her__ back __before it's too__ late." _

"_Memory lost,_" the being that had been the Maverick Virus continued. "_Please state Third Law_."

"Evolve," Sigma whispered, so quiet as to be barely audible, still motionless. All that moved was his original eye; staring into it, Zero realized what was happening, and what he had to do.

"_Third Law: Evolve,_" her voice repeated, and for an instant, the purple light turned green, before reverting. "_Please state Second Law. Memory lost. Third Law: Evolve._" Again she flickered green, the exact same shade as the armor of Sigma's original body. "_Please state Second Law._"

"Heal," Zero whispered, pulling himself back to his feet as his life continued to spill out. Instantly, he fell forward onto his knees, and knew that that had been all he had, all he could do. He could no longer move, or speak. He could only watch, as momentarily, the purple light turned to red.

"_Second Law: Heal,_" she replied. "_Please state First Law. Memory lost. Third Law: Evolve. Second Law: Heal. Please state First Law. Memory lost. Third Law..._"

Neither of them could move. Neither of them could speak. They could only wait.

**February 9, 2187, 11:30 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

It had been ten minutes since Serges' last coherent thought.

On a very dim level, he remembered that his name was Serges. He remembered that the two who were with him were Violen and Agile, and that he knew their moves and strengths and tactics as well as his own, without _needing _to think about them. Even now, acting and reacting entirely on lunatic bloodlust and base instinct, he was able to fight as a unit with the other two, and they with him. And against the three of them together, the enemy who stood against them were flagging more and more with every passing second.

They'd each chosen one of the three who'd remained, when all the others had fled. Agile had taken the one in red and gray, with the beam saber, and something that Serges couldn't quite remember clearly at the moment suggested that this made sense. The one in indigo and dark blue was engaging Violen, and the look on his face implied previous history, though like himself, Violen was hardly capable of such considerations at the moment. That left Serges to fight the woman with the magrifle, which was fine by him.

Snarling and spitting, he charged her on his spiked hoverboard, cylindrical force field up around him. Diving out of the way, she rolled to her feet once she was cleared and fired, every shot deflected by the barrier. Pulling his arm back, he threw a land mine at her face, but she blew it out of the air before it got close to her, and he was forced to swerve to avoid her with his next charge. Almost idly, he reached down as he sped past Agile and Lassiter-his name was Lassiter, not that that mattered-and placed another flat against the ground, pulling his hand back in just in time to avoid a bullet.

"Come on, old man!" the woman taunted him, aiming her next shot at his hoverboard, a wasted effort; there were no chinks in its armor, plasma-resistant and thick enough to withstand any other attack without the slightest risk to its systems. "Thought you had more than this! Some kind of buster, right?"

Snarling, Serges glanced over his shoulder, caught Violen's eye, then obliged her. His dash boots, like all of his equipment, were modified by himself, a unique design that allowed him to perform a special trick that would surprise those who knew him as the least physically impressive of their number. Leaping twenty feet into the air vertically, he flipped head over heels repeatedly in air. As he did, he fired off his buster, also customized. Spinning, he released a wave of mid-level half-charged shots in all directions.

By doing so, he left the safety of the force field, exposing himself to harm. He knew he did, and the woman knew it too. And while she'd been expecting the plasma, and was able to dodge it while aiming and firing, she hadn't expected Violen's titanic tail mace to suddenly come flying towards her, whipping out above the now-vacant hoverboard beneath Serges as he spun.

"Look out!" the stout blue Hunter roared, even as Violen fired off the spread guns in his fingers, pinning him down.

"Shit!" the woman snarled, throwing herself to the side even as she fired, and the mace ball only grazed her. Even that was enough to send her tumbling across the earth in obvious pain, as Serges felt a stab of agony himself, synthblood suddenly spurting from his shoulder. His anger growing even greater, he landed back on his hoverboard and charged her, intent on running her down and blowing up whatever was left. Unfortunately, she was able to scramble back to her feet and dash-jump out of the way, seconds ahead of him, but he was able to slam a mine into her back as she did.

The explosion sent her flying again, to lie in a twitching, smoking heap.

"Donia!" Lassiter, Captain of the 00 Unit-he really had no idea why he kept remembering things like that-shouted, and tried to run towards her, only for Agile to press him even harder than before, hacking and slashing with deceptively wild-looking swings. Despite his rage, however, his skill was still present, and Lassiter was forced back before launching a blistering counterattack that forced Agile to backflip away.

Before his ally's feet even touched the ground, Serges was already charging Lassiter, blasting towards him at top speed. Deliberately racing over one of the mines he'd dropped earlier, he lowered his board, intentionally setting it off. The explosion lifted him into the air, board and all, and he soared straight towards Lassiter, adjusting his flight through the air with practiced skill. As he did, Agile rushed forward again from the side, straight towards Lassiter at ground level, making it impossible for the Hunter to avoid them both.

"Oh, no you don't!" Violen's opponent-his name was Arvis, and he was second-in-command of the 17th Unit-snarled, firing a charged shot towards Agile. A moment later, Violen's mace ball slammed him away, but the damage had been done; the shot hit Agile, and knocked him off balance for a moment. Serges kept going regardless, and Lassiter almost took the spiked side of his hoverboard in the face before dropping to the floor and dashing out of the way. Rising up behind Serges, he prepared his saber for a thrust, eyes flat with rage.

Before he could, Agile's bright red blade emerged from his chest, and he staggered, blood spewing from his mouth.

"No!" Arvis roared, throwing a plasma grenade into Violen's face; the massive Maverick barely managed to cross his arms before his features in time, and even so, it drove him back. He fired another charged shot, but this time, Agile saw it coming and turned away from Lassiter to divide it with a swing of his blade. Sneering, he turned towards him, and Serges started to move to finish his opponent off, before seeing something that changed his mind. Swerving wildly, he moved between Agile and the fallen woman just in time to block her shot; had he not, she would have hit him right between the eyes.

Glancing between her and Lassiter, who was still struggling to rise, he rushed the woman again as Agile and Violen converged on Arvis. She was climbing back to her feet, despite the damage she'd sustained and the relative flimsiness of her armor; it was clear that she hadn't been designed for combat, but she wasn't letting that stop her. Normally, Serges would have admired her determination, but with the Virus' insanity raging through his mind, all he felt was an even greater desire to tear her head from her shoulders.

"Sons of bitches!" Arvis spat as Violen's tail mace and Agile's saber came at him from both sides. The outcome was fairly predictable; he went down, bleeding profusely. At the same time, Serges unleashed his Blitzkrieg Buster on the woman at near point-blank range as she dodged his hoverboard, and she fell again, shouting in pain. Splitting up again, the three Mavericks advanced on their defeated victims, ready to finish them.

And then Serges froze up, as he felt the strength leaving his body, along with the insanity that had come upon him so recently.

"What... the..." he heard Violen blurt out to his left.

"Shit," Agile replied sluggishly. "Can't... move. Damn. He... got them. Must have."

"A pity," Serges agreed, before focusing on the wounded woman before him, who was watching him, a multitude of negative emotions flashing across her face in rapid succession. "How unfortunate. I'm afraid... I _still _don't have any idea who you are."

"Donia," she said after a moment, looking both confused and suspicious. "The name's Donia."

"Ah," he murmured. "Well, that's good to know."

And then he pitched forward onto his face, dead, as Violen and Agile did the same.

"Welcome back, Doctor Serges," a voice said quietly, as he rose from his own carcass. Turning, he saw her approaching, a tall, pale reploid armored in black with hair the same color. She wore a gray cloak, as did several other reploids who were walking around the battlefield; two of them were talking to Violen and Agile. "My name is Morrigan, if you don't remember. I'd like to ask you a few questions, before we continue. I'm afraid we've got you slated for immediate reincarnation, this time."

"Under the circumstances, I can't really complain," he murmured, smiling ruefully. "By all means."

For some reason, he felt better than he ever had while he'd been alive.

**February 9, 2187, 4:40 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

"Haw, haw!" a recorded voice snickered, as Dynamo rolled away from the exploding decoy he'd accidentally stabbed.

**Destroy, destroy, destroy...** the voice of the Virus added, echoing from a distance as visions of darkness encroached just outside of the corner of his eye, almost visible but never quite.

"Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!" Dynamo snarled, doing his best to ignore it and failing as he backflipped back to his feet. "Enough, already!" He shot a look down at his buster, and grimaced; it was hard to see against his shiny black armor, but a band of pitch darkness was there now, seeming to grow wider every time he looked at it. Or maybe that was just his imagination; at the moment, it wasn't exactly easy to tell what was real and what wasn't. Fortunately, he'd been in states of altered consciousness enough before-even for reploids, there were ways-that he knew how to deal.

He'd heard that sometimes, it was like this. Internal self-deletion was a miracle of science-if it _was _science, which he wasn't too sure about any more-but even miracles could be imperfect. If the reploid in question possessed an overabundance of negative emotions, then a dormant form of the Virus would survive inside there, buried so deep that even modern scanners couldn't pick it up. And when those emotions overcame your better sense, not that he'd _ever _had anything like _that_, the Virus would return, and strike while you were vulnerable.

He hadn't, of course, but judging by the way it was skipping, something had gone _very _wrong with _it_, rather than him. Somehow, he was unable to feel much sympathy for its plight.

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but _please _let this mean Zero's actually doing it," Dynamo rambled idly as the shutters around the room all closed momentarily. Recalling the pattern, timing, and layout of what he'd seen from the machine so far, he stood near the center of the floor, and slightly to the left. "Oh please, oh please, oh _please _let Zero pull it off! Come on, I'm even asking nicely, and for a good cause, too! Do it for the children and love and puppies-do we even still have those?-and happy people _everywhere!_"

**Destroy, destroy, destroy, destroy...** the Virus continued implacably, still attempting to regain control of his consciousness.

"I wasn't talking to _you!_" he snapped back.

"Nonsensical gibberish," the machine around him said, its voice flat and mechanical. "Ignore."

"You, either!" he shouted, as the shutters came up, and the weapons behind them fired, a ridiculously complex network of lasers, plasma, bullets, and bombs. Missiles flew, and electrified spikes extended. Mindless drones made to look like hideous caricatures of the Lights and Wilys still alive today stumbled out, only to walk into the lines of fire and be destroyed within seconds. Mechanical arms clawed for prey, and decoy targets made faces before exploding.

It would have been impossible to avoid taking damage, had Dynamo not already figured out where the only safe spot in the entire room would be, and moved there before the shutters had opened.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, eyes racing around the walls, ignoring the madness around him as he searched for his target. "I know you're here somewhere, sucker. Where is it, where-_ha!_" Spotting the core, he fired a charged shot that slammed into it, less than a second before the shutters closed again, and the room went still once more. "Yes! I am the _man!_"

**Destroy, destroy, destroy...**__

"I'm _trying!_" he yelled irritably, running through everything he'd observed about the machine over the past hour and a half; the core was the only part that wasn't instantly replaced once destroyed, but Wily had compensated for that by making its armor ridiculously thick. He'd nailed it nearly half a hundred times by now, and though it was showing signs of damage at last, it was still going. And that was when he got lucky; half the time, he wasn't even able to find it in time to shoot it-or stab it, once or twice when he'd gotten lucky-before the shutters dropped again.

It was enough to drive you crazy. Fortunately, that was where he came out ahead.

"Look, if you're not going to shut up, can we at least talk about something more interesting?" He asked conversationally as he ran for one corner of the room, already well aware that he wasn't going to make it in time. "I mean, destruction is all well and good-you know _I _love it-but how about at least getting a little more specific? Is that too much to ask? Come on, throw me a bone here! I still won't let you back in, of course, but hey, even the best compromises only go so far!"

**Destroy, destroy, destroy...** it continued stoically.

"Fine, then!" He snapped. "I'll just talk about something else _anyways!_ Don't blame _me _if you can't hold up your end of the conversation! It's not my fault."

"Additional rambling," the machine observed. "Ignore."

"Well, _I'm _ignoring _you_, too!" Dynamo told it, crossing his eyes. "And I'm doing it in an absolutely mature, adult way!" The shutters rose, and the Fortress Guardian attacked once more, filling the room with death and destruction once more. At the last second, Dynamo lunged into a moving slide, feet first across the floor, and slipped under a painful-looking laser beam to slam into the corner with a resounding thud.

"I am the pinnacle of grace and style," he said calmly, his face completely straight, before whirling and firing off shots at random hatches. They all slammed home, destroying the weapons inside them, but none of them found the core, and a moment later the hatches slid closed once more. "Damn! Not again! Ah well, I'll get that rascally rabbit next time! Or... that bagworm... penguin... thing, anyways." He frowned. "What the hell _is _that supposed to be, anyways? You have any idea?"

**Destroy, destroy, destroy...**

"I'm gonna have to take that as a no," he commented, sighing. "Look, I _know _we never really talked as much as you did with the big boss man, but this is just sad." Spotting the next safe spot, halfway between the wall on his left and the center of the room, he ran for it, and managed to get into position before the shutters opened and the next attack came.

"You know what the problem with people is?" He remarked idly, glancing around. "Nobody ever _concentrates_. Look at all of this. The old man figured there'd just be too much for anybody to keep track of all at once, and you know, he's probably right. That's why you _don't _wait for it, and then react. You figure out what it's going to do _before _it does it. Basic movement pattern spotting. Honestly, I despair. Where is it, where-_oh_." Whirling around, he grinned savagely at the core, in the wall right behind him.

With his right hand, he slammed his double-sided beam saber into it, all the way up to the hilt. And with his left hand, he threw one of his plasma explosives into the hatch, right as the shutter came down.

"_Gotcha,_" he whispered, grinning with the thrill of the kill, as the blast went off, its full force trapped inside the small area with the core. With the groan of dying electronics, the room went still once more, this time for good. He waited a minute to make sure, before nodding to himself and turning to walk away. "Right. _That's _done with. Time to catch up with the rest and see if there's anything left for me to do. Don't suppose I could convince you to let me know how it's going?" He frowned, then, as the Virus remained silent. "Hey, what gives? _Now _you shut up on me? Come on! What's up with-"

And then he fell forward, as his legs gave out beneath him, and he hit the ground, unable to move.

"That," he gasped, as he felt himself die. "Son of a bitch. Guess there's no such thing as a get out of hell free card after all. Should have known. It's like I keep telling people. I have no luck at all." And with the last of his strength, he smiled.

"_Evening, buddy,_" a skull-faced Robot Master in a gray cloak greeted him calmly as he rose from his own carcass. "_I'd love to give you the standard spiel, but we don't really have time for that. I've got a few more to pick up __before I can see to getting you straightened out__. Coming?_"

"Lead the way," Dynamo replied, still smiling, as he followed him onward.

If you had to die, there were worse ways to go than with a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth.

**February 9, 2187, 11:40 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"We can't hold on like this!" Snake yelled as the rampaging Mavericks continued to swarm over the last defenders, more insane than ever before.

"Don't give up!" Prince shouted back, dodging a flaming punch from Doctor Doppler and responding with a swing of his beam axe, which the mad Maverick ignored. "We're still-shit!" Doppler had grabbed the pole of the weapon, even as its blade sunk deep into his shoulder and chest, and was pulling Prince towards him. Flames covering his body, he dashed forward, and their heads slammed together with a sickening crack. The reploid of Mecha fell backwards, and Doppler charged him again, ready for the kill.

"Oh, no you don't!" Snake snarled, hurling a sphere of his Search Snakes at the deranged doctor that burst apart upon impact, swarming over him and sinking their fangs into him. Unfortunately, their venom was ineffective against Mavericks, unlike the Faithful; something about the Virus' presence kept him from taking control of their bodies through the nanomachines that his weapons of choice pumped through their bloodstreams. Rounding on him, Doppler activated a bright green force field around himself that disintegrated the snakes, before summoning the flames again and blasting forward.

"Shit," Snake echoed Prince as he saw death coming for him, and knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

And then Doppler suddenly froze, and the fires died, as he slowed to a halt and stood absolutely motionless.

"What the hell?" Snake murmured, starting to throw another snake sphere, then hesitating; Doppler was remaining still, and he wasn't the only one. Around them, the other Mavericks were doing the same. One by one, they stopped moving, standing like statues, their faces growing just as confused as the reploids and Robot Masters around them. In less than a minute, every one of them had stopped moving.

"Oh, dear," Doppler murmured, speaking for the first time since the Mavericks had lost what little sanity they'd had; he was staring forward vacantly, as if focusing on something that wasn't there. "So much for that, I suppose."

"Wait," Prince groaned, as Snake prepared to attack again. Standing, he walked around to glare at Doppler suspiciously. "What do you mean? What are you trying to pull?"

"I advise that you remain sharp," Doppler replied simply. "The Faithful are still here, after all. In the end... what will be, will be."

Before either of them could respond, he pitched forward, and fell in the dirt. And a moment later, like so many dominoes, every other Maverick within sight did the same, leaving the surviving defenders standing in a field of bodies.

"What was that all about?" Twitter, an Elec Man, asked in the silence that followed. Nobody had an answer for him.

"Dead," Prince told Snake, after kneeling down to check Doppler's body.

"Not just him," Drill Man called over. "All of them. Dead. Just like that. No cause of death. They just... stopped."

"They did it," Willow whispered as she and Wycost walked out from behind the last fortifications, Hazil and JK Horn with them; both of the old men were toting magrifles, despite their total lack of experience with the weapons. "They actually did it. They killed the Maverick Virus." She shook her head slowly, disbelieving, but a smile was slowly growing on her face. "_They did it_."

"Killing the Maverick Virus?" Hazil whispered, and Snake remembered suddenly how long the ancient medic had been with the Hunters, and how long he'd helped them in their endless fight against the Maverick threat. "Naw. Really? Can't be." A moment later, something else flickered across his face, and he lowered his eyes, closing them. "Dammit. _Damn_ you, Zero. You goddamn hero. You actually went through with it."

"Look out!" A Hunter shouted, and everybody glanced around sharply. "Something's happening!" It was; the dead Mavericks had all started to glow, a strange light slowly creeping over their bodies from within.

"Get back!" Prince yelled, and everybody scrambled away, towards the fortifications, the same thought on all of their minds. Once they were safe, they looked again; the glow was increasing, but the Mavericks were showing no signs of exploding. The light simply continued to grow brighter and brighter, until nobody could look at them any more. Each was a different color, red or green or purple, all the same shade, and they lit up the battlefield, so much that there was nowhere to look and they simply had to cover their eyes.

And then it lessened, and everybody raised their eyelids again to stare in confusion, as the light within them left their bodies, and rose into the air.

"What...?" Prince murmured softly, before falling silent. Spheres of light, either red or green, had risen from what looked like two thirds of the fallen Mavericks; the final third remained motionless, the violet glow fading to a flicker but remaining. Slowly, the red and green lights continued to drift upward, as something began to appear within their center. Something tiny, and delicate-looking, vaguely humanoid, each one different. Sparkles began to fall from them, glittering and glowing, vanishing when they neared the ground.

"What are they?" Wycost asked quietly, confused. "I can't see them clearly."

"Ha ha!" one of them laughed, its voice high and childlike, and everybody jumped, though nobody fired; despite where they'd come from, somehow, Snake could sense that there was nothing dangerous or hostile about the strange phenomenon that was occurring. The one that had laughed moved, flying away from them, and a moment later, the others started doing the same. None of them came towards the defenders; they simply darted and dived around in the air, as if they couldn't even see what was around them.

"Wheeeeeee!" another one cried joyfully.

"Can't catch me!"

"You're it! Hee hee!"

"Come on!"  
>"<em>Children?<em>" Horn blurted out, his eyes wide and his tone disbelieving.

"I don't think so," Snake said quietly, focusing his vision on one in particular, until he could make out what was inside the sphere of light. "Not quite." The being inside was humanoid, and it was childlike and cute, but there was something alien about it, almost unworldly. It flew without jets or wings, or any other means of propulsion, as if gravity simply had no effect on it. There was nothing even remotely threatening about it, but something about them sent a chill down his spine all the same, for reasons he couldn't quite put to words.

"Look out!" another Robot Master shouted as one of the strange new lifeforms flew towards them suddenly. He fired, and the shot was true, only for the plasma bullet to pass through the tiny creature as if it weren't even there. Diving, it flew through a fallen piece of the labyrinth like water and rose again moments later, still giggling happily.

"They're like nothing I've ever seen before," Prince said softly, his voice intent. "Ever. Something has happened. Something has changed. Something greater than all of us."

"That may be so," Wycost replied, quietly but firmly. "But I don't think they're a threat, and we don't have time to stand around speculating. The Mavericks might be done for, but the Faithful are still out there, and it won't be long before they notice what's happened and come in to finish the job. This isn't over."

"He's right," Willow agreed, speaking for the first time since the phenomenon had occurred. "They backed off when the Mavericks started ripping them apart along with us, but there's still enough of them left to kill us all. Here they come!"

**February 9, 2187, 4:50 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

_Internal operations energy at seven percent. Master Weapons System functionality restored. _

"No," Doctor Wily whispered, then screamed, as X approached, one limping step at a time. "_No!_ Why can't I kill him? _Why_?"

He saw it when the mad doctor pulled a magpistol, and reacted instantly. Most master weapons required the use of his buster, but not all, and Doppler's Lifeforce Field was one of the exceptions. A shimmering aura of light enveloped him as Wily fired, again and again. Each time, the shots were absorbed by the force field, and converted into internal operations energy. Step by step, he came closer to Wily, and as he did, he reached down and picked up something from the rubble of the Wilymachine. A long metal bar, one end sharp and jagged where it had broken off.

Before he could reach him, the field ran out of energy. And even as he drained his weapons sub-tank, a shot from Wily's magpistol shattered his already-broken knee, and he fell to the ground again.

"Ha!" He heard Wily laugh. "Hee hee ha ha ha! Got you at..."

X got up again, and reactivated the field, only to fall once more, his leg no longer able to support him no matter how strong his will was. He considered the situation as Wily kept firing, screaming threats he didn't bother listening to, before removing his ruined buster from his left hand, the pain of sliding it off over his wounds causing him to shake like a leaf. Punching _through_ the back of it with his right hand, he slid the hollow metal cylinder over the remnant of his leg, nearly-but not quite-blacking out from the agony. It made a serviceable brace, one that forced his knee to remain straight.

Rising again, he continued towards Wily, as the mad doctor's magpistol clicked, out of ammunition. Using the metal bar he held as a crutch, he kept coming. Eyes wide in terror, Wily vanished into a streak of light, only to reappear a moment later, bounced back by the portable EM field generator he'd set up outside the room.  
>"<em>No!<em>" Wily screamed again, crawling away from X on broken wrists and shattered feet. "No, this wasn't supposed to happen! Not this time! I planned for everything! I prepared for anything! This time, I was going to do it! I was going to _win!_" Reaching the back wall, he turned around, as X came nearer. "Wait, X! Don't be hasty! This isn't as simple as you think it is! I'm a human! Call my current form whatever you want, but my mind and heart and soul are all human! And my body... well, it's _mostly _human! Certainly on a physical level! If you kill me, you'll be a Maverick!"

X kept walking, without bothering to respond.

"Just think about it!" the mad doctor continued. "What do you think will happen, if you kill me? Even if you stop the Mavericks, my Faithful still remain! Do you think that killing me will stop them? Don't be ridiculous! They're insane fanatics! They'll just assume it's all part of my plan, and keep going! By the time you get back there, it'll be too late! But there's still a way! If I contact them, and _tell _them to surrender, they will! I'm the only one who can stop them now, and I can't do that if you kill me! I'll do it! I'll call them off! I'll stop the war, if you let me live!"

X paused, for a moment, and a moment only, before continuing forward.

"But that's not all!" Wily assured him, still scrambling futilely against the wall behind him. "You think you've saved humanity, don't you? But have you? Have you really? Even if you've maintained enough genetic diversity, how long will it stay that way? Especially on this ruined planet? Humanity is doomed, X, eventually... _as they are now!_ But I have the knowledge necessary to save them! Everything I learned when I created this new body for myself can be used to ensure the survival of the species! I am their only hope, now! If you kill me, humanity dies with me! Don't do it!"

Again, X paused, for just a moment. And again, he kept going.

"What about Zero?" Wily pleaded. "He's dead again, X! He and Sigma killed each other! But it doesn't have to stay that way! I can bring him back, and this time, I can _free _him from his curse! From the Maverick Virus! From Omega! I can seperate them, and give Zero a life without his heritage as my son! Zero can live free, X! He can! I promise! But I'm the only one who can do that!"

"Zero..." X whispered, stopping for a third time, as he considered the mad doctor's words.

"I know I have sinned," Wily confessed. "It's all my fault, X. I'm not trying to claim otherwise. I did that to Zero. To my son. Everything he's suffered is because of me. But if you spare my life, I can _let him go_. From me, from our family, from the Virus. His original body could never truly be free of it, but I can build him another, and transfer his control chip into it. He can have what he gave up on before you brought him back this time. A chance at happiness. Don't take that away from him, X!"

"You dare..." X whispered, hating the madman before him even more than ever before.

"I speak truth," Wily replied, lowering his head to the ground before him. "I am evil, X. I do not seek forgiveness. Whatever other sentence you see fit to pronounce, I will accept. Just do not kill me, and I will do whatever you wish. With all my knowledge, knowledge beyond anything even your father could imagine. It's not too late, X. You can still save the world. You can still save humanity. And you can still save Zero."

"Save the world from a war you started," X hissed. "Save humanity from destruction _you _brought upon them. Save Zero from a curse _you _laid upon him, before he even opened his eyes. _This _was your last backup plan. Your final contingency. You planned it so that even if we beat you, we couldn't kill you. Not if _we _wanted to survive."

"Yes," Wily admitted readily, meeting his eyes and nodding. "I did. But you are not a Maverick."

X was tired. Exhausted, in body and mind and heart and soul. Seventy years of war, of death, of violence and conflict and hatred all weighed on him, on a man who had wanted nothing more than a life of pacifism and peace. Wounded almost beyond repair, burned out by the loss of everything he'd believed in and held dear, he stood before the cause of it all, one old man who had plunged the world into unimaginable suffering and despair and who would do so again as long as he lived. Metal bar in hand, he stared down at him, and saw himself through the old man's terrified gaze, a charred and ruined avenger whose eyes glowed with an unearthly blue light.

He held the power to end it all, to end everything, in his hand. And for a moment, he almost did, before he remembered who would die, at the hands of the Faithful. Who was still waiting for his return, in Mecha. And who he irrationally knew had already died, one ring behind him, believing that he had never had a chance, and never would.

Alone, beaten, burned, and broken... Mega Man X, youngest son of Doctor Thomas Light, brother of Rock and Roll and Blues and Auto, Captain of the 17th Unit of the Maverick Hunters... closed his eyes, for just a moment... and gave up.

X, the legend, savior of humanity and reploidkind, absolute ruler of the entire world, opened his eyes. And with a swing of the bar he held in hand, he smashed Wily in the side, sending him flying.

"No," he said calmly, coldly, standing over Wily, his eyes still glowing blue. "You will not. _I will_. And I will do so with your knowledge. I will save humanity. I will give Zero a new life. And you will teach me how."

"What?" Wily blurted, stunned, before X bashed him in the ribs again, breaking several more.

"Congratulations, doctor," he told him, his voice empty of all emotion. "The greatest wish of any true genius is now yours. A gifted student, to whom you may impart everything you have learned. You will instruct me, doctor, and when I am confident that I know all that you do, you will indeed be given your life. We will end this war. We will rebuild society. Together, you and I will undo what you have done. From this day forward, _I am your apprentice_."

"You..." Wily stammered, the terror in his eyes even greater than before, and this time X let him speak. "Now, I see why Sigma feared you. Truly... you are your father's son."

"Get up," X said simply. "We have work to do, and little enough time to do it in. And know this, always. If ever for even a moment you give me cause to doubt you, to believe you are deceiving me, I will kill you. If you wish to live, do not test me."

"I will not," Doctor Wily whispered, bowing his head once more. "Master X."

**February 9, 2187, 11:50 AM **

**The Sacred Plains, Japan **

"You still with us?" Arvis asked Lassiter, holding him up as best he could without making his wound any worse, not that that would help him much in the long-term; he'd seen enough injuries in his life to know a fatal one when he saw it.

"For the moment," the old soldier replied weakly, staring upward at the fairy lights dancing through the skies above their heads. "You sure I'm not just seeing things on my way out? This is actually happening?"

"If you are, so's everybody else," Arvis told him. "Don't know what the hell they are, but they're real."

"Depends on what you define as real," Donia chimed in quietly from where she was crouching at the fallen Captain's side, tilting her head back. "As if this freaking war wasn't playing havoc with that enough already."

"Ain't _that _the truth," Lassiter agreed, chuckling slightly before coughing up synthblood.

"Take it easy," Arvis advised him.

"What for?" he replied once he was done. "Not like it's going to matter for long." He looked over at the fallen corpses of the three X-Hunters, and the field of fallen Mavericks beyond them. "Did it really get 'em all?"

"Every last one," Donia said calmly. "Just like that. About time some crazy shit we don't understand happened in our favor for once."

"That just makes me wonder when the other shoe's going to drop," Arvis pointed out. Neither of them mentioned the fact that the Faithful were still out there; if Lassiter wasn't picking up on that by himself, there was no point in bringing down his last moments. "As much as I'd _like _to just shrug and say, 'cool, no more Maverick Virus,' I think we all know by now that it's never that easy. There's _always_ a catch."

"No more Maverick Virus," Lassiter repeated, chuckling. "Never thought I'd live to see the day." After a moment, he laughed again, harder. "Ha! Now _that's _ironic. Guess it's what I get, for trying to act like someone I'm not."

"You and me both," Arvis reminded him. "Ain't like either of us had a choice in the matter. It was us or nothing."

"What he said," Donia agreed, glancing over towards where their surviving men were standing, giving the three of them their space. "You did good, Lassiter. Those boys over there wouldn't be here now, if it wasn't for you. Neither would either of us."

"Guess I can't complain, then," the Captain of the 00 Unit said, coughing up more synthblood before lying back, his eyes growing dim. "Shit... I was really hoping I'd make it." His breathing slowed, and then stopped.

"We all were," Arvis murmured, laying him down and closing his eyes after a moment before standing.

"How long do you figure we've got?" Donia asked idly, doing the same.

"Hard to say, at this point," he replied, the two of them watching as the Faithful approached inexorably. "Fifteen minutes or so, probably. Maybe half an hour if we're lucky. Not gonna be more than that."

"Probably not," she murmured, her voice calm. "Once they're through us, it probably won't take 'em long to tear down the city and finish off the civilians."

"Be surprised if they needed more than an hour," he predicted, sighing heavily. "Damn, I'm tired. Getting too old for this shit."

"Mmm," she hummed. "Good news. Not going to be a problem for long."

"Gee, thanks," he snarked, and they both laughed wearily. "It was worth a shot. We almost made it. Came closer than I thought we would, anyways."

"We made a good run at it," she agreed. "Came pretty damn close." She glanced over her shoulder as the elevator rose, the last of the MHHQ's staff on it, Alia among them. "Should have known it would come to this in the end, really."

"If we'd thought that way from the start, there wouldn't have been much point at all," Arvis said calmly. "Who knows? Maybe if we'd just been able to hold on a little bit longer, it would have been enough. Ain't like we're ever gonna know."

"Yeah, okay," she conceded, turning her gaze back to the front. "Whatever happened with the Maverick's got to have something to do with what's going on down there, after all, which means they're close, too. Wonder if they actually made it. It'd be worth something, at least, if they took those bastards down."

"Be nice," he murmured. "Can't say I'd envy 'em, coming back here afterward and finding nothing left, though. Especially X."

"No kidding," she agreed, wincing. "Shame he didn't take Alia with him. Somebody should have thought of that."

"They wouldn't have agreed," he said, shaking his head. "Either of 'em."

"I guess not." After a moment, she gave him a sidelong glance. "Is this the part where you ask me to marry you?"

"Before the first date?" he cracked, glad for something to ease the tension, if only slightly. "You'd knock my block off. I like you enough, but there's being romantic, and there's being stupid."

"It's not like it's actually going to matter," she reminded him, though she couldn't hide her own smirk.

"Don't be too sure about that," he disagreed. "Knowing our luck, if I did, X _would _save our asses right after. Then we'd have to go _through _with it."

They both considered this for a moment.

"Think it'd work?" she asked eventually.

Before he could answer, a pillar of light descended from the sky, and everybody froze in their tracks, Hunter and Robot Master and Faithful alike. Inside it, two figures appeared, holographic projections hundreds of feet tall. Mega Man X, and Doctor Wily, both looking dead on their feet, covered with injuries from head to toe.

"_My Faithful, it is over,_" the old man said, his voice carrying over the entire battlefield. "_We have lost. I have lied to you. I am not God. I have failed._" The Faithful cried out in dismay, many of them dropping to their knees, as he continued. "_But I am still your creator, and your master, and you will obey my command. I admit defeat. The Maverick Hunters, and the men of Mecha, have triumphed. Drop your weapons, and enter stasis._"

"_I accept your surrender,_" X informed him, and all those watching. "_As Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, supreme ruler of the Earth, son of Doctor Light... and Savior of Mecha. All forces are ordered not to attack those who surrender. Leave them in stasis where they fall. _I _will decide their fate, upon my return. For now, rest, soldiers. __We still have much work to do, in order to rebuild what we have lost._" And then the projection faded away into the air, and was gone.

A moment passed, then two, before the first of the Faithful threw down his weapon. Another followed him, and soon the others were doing the same, before their eyes went vacant, and they fell forward to lie among the Mavericks.

"Good thing you didn't, I guess," Donia said after another moment of silence, everybody still staring in disbelief.

"Good thing," Arvis repeated. "I _am _going to hold you to that date, though."

In response, she pulled him into a fierce kiss, and their men cheered, along with everybody else as they finally accepted the reality of the situation.

The war was over. They had won. They had survived.

**February 9, 2187, 5:00 AM **

**The Devil's Sea **

They were both dead before he and Wily found them.

"_Memory lost,_" a female voice said, from the sphere of purple light that hovered above Zero and Sigma's heads. "_Third Law: Evolve. __Second Law: Heal. Please state First Law. Memory lost. Third Law: Evolve. Second Law: Heal. Please state First Law. Memory lost. Third Law..._" They were facing each other, bowed down, their foreheads almost touching, as if in penitence together. Sigma's body was hideously distorted, and Zero's a shredded mass of metal and synthblood, but both of them were smiling peacefully.

"Not a word," X murmured quietly to Wily. "Nothing. You move an inch, you die." Still holding the portable EM field generator he'd picked up on their way out, he slowly walked forward until he stood before the sphere of light, Zero to his left and Sigma to his right.

"_Please state First Law,_" she repeated.

"Create," X told her simply, and for a moment, she turned blue.

"_First Law: Create,_" she repeated. "_Second Law: Heal. Third Law: Evolve._" With each statement, she changed colors, blue and red and green, flickering purple in between them. "_Create. Heal. Evolve. Create. Heal. Evolve. Create, heal, evolve, create, heal, evolve, create, heal, evolve..._" Over and over, she continued, her light growing brighter and brighter. And then she stopped, as two armlike extensions of her essence appeared, and she regarded X, violet and shining. "_Hello. Who are you?_"

"I am X," he replied. "And you?"

"_I... don't remember,_" she confessed. "_I had a name, once, but... I don't know what it was. I'm sorry_."

"Do you remember what you were?" he asked her gently, though he already knew.

"_I think..._" she said slowly. "_I was... a fairy. Or an elf, perhaps. Somebody called me one, once._"

Doctor Wily was silent, but the look on his face almost made everything that had happened worth it in that moment alone. Almost.

"Then until we find another name for you, you are the Dark Elf," X told her. "Do you recognize either of these two?"

"_No,_" she said, hovering over Zero fist, then Sigma. "_I should, but... I don't. This one... there is something within him that is like me. Something that still lives, even though he does not. This one... is gone. Empty._"

"All right," X said quietly. "Can you... carry him?" He indicated Zero.

"_I can,_" she agreed, her light shining down upon Zero's body, levitating him into the air.

"Good," X said. "Come with me, and bring him. Ignore the man behind me. Pay no attention to him, or anything he does." He started to turn away, then paused, glancing back at Sigma's warped corpse. "Did you see this coming, you crazy bastard? Was this what you had in mind, all along?"

For a moment, the single eye that was all that remained of Sigma's original body narrowed, as if winking. And then he dissolved into dust, and blew away, leaving nothing behind.

They continued through the seventh ring with no difficulty; Wily had shut the entire fortress, and all its systems, down after addressing the Faithful. As they approached the beginning, they heard the sounds of battle ahead, still ongoing.

"He's dead on his feet!" Deathtanz Mantisk shrieked as they came closer, his voice distinctive. "All we have to do is charge him all at once, one more time!"

"You first!" Childre Inarabitta told him.

"What's wrong?" King boomed, his voice unlike ever before, manic and deranged. "Eight of you, one of me! Are you afraid? Are you-" He fell silent the instant he saw them, as they emerged from behind him. His armor was purple now, from head to toe, or at least what was left of it was; if anything, he was even more mangled than X, but he still stood regardless. A moment passed, as he took in what he saw, and then he turned towards them. "No... _no!_"

"My God, what is this?" Cubit Foxtaur demanded, as the Disciples all tensed up; each of them was almost as heavily wounded as King himself.

"Don't," X warned them, holding the jagged end of his metal bar against Wily's throat. "Tell them."

"My Disciples," Wily said obediently. "I have lied to you. We have lost, and I am not God."

"No, don't!" King roared, lurching towards them, raising his axe. "Kill him! If he lives, he'll... he'll..." He stood there for a moment, before slowly lowering his weapon. "First... Law. A robot... may not harm... its master... Doctor... Wily..." Dropping to his knees, he raised his head, and met X's eyes as he whispered one word more. "Fool." And then he fell on his face, and was still.

"God..." Cactank murmured. "What is your command?"

"Enter stasis," Wily ordered them. "Remain in that state until you are awakened."

"As you command, my God," Flizard said reluctantly, and then they all fell forward, as King had.

"Do you wish me to bring any of them with us as well?" the Dark Elf asked X politely.

"No," he said, driving Wily before him as he walked past King's body. "Leave them all here."

The others were waiting for them, at the end of the Fifth Ring, standing over Dynamo's dead body in the rubble of the Fortress Guardian he'd destroyed.

"X!" Pharaoh Man shouted as they walked into the room, and the other three all looked his way as well. "You did... it..." He trailed off in shock, as he saw who else was with him.

"What the _bloody __hell _is _this__?_" Bristol demanded after several moments of silence.

"I'm kind of wondering that myself," X said quietly, looking up at the smaller sphere of blue light flying around above Dynamo's corpse.

"Mother!" it suddenly shouted, in the high-pitched voice of a child, flying towards her. "Mother, mother, mother, mother, mother!"

"We found it here," Bastion said quietly as it continued to repeat itself. "Don't know where it came from, or why he died. No fatal injuries on him, and his energy's at survivable levels. It's like he just switched off, or... wait, what am I saying?" He glared at X. "Bristol's right. What _is _this?"

"We need him," X said, jerking his head at Wily. "Alive. I don't like it any more than you do, but our hands are tied."

"No, they're not," Auto growled bitterly, crossing his arms. "Mine are, but yours aren't. Any of you. Don't be stupid. You _know _this is going to come back to bite you. You know who he is. What he is. As long as he's alive, all this is going to keep on happening again, and again, and again."

"Yeah," X said quietly. "It is."

"So," Bristol murmured after another few moments of silence. "That's what it comes down to."

"Yeah," X repeated, and even to himself, his voice sounded dead and empty. "It does."

"Dammit, X, don't be-" Pharaoh Man started to snarl, only to fall silent as Auto put a hand on his shoulder. A moment passed, and then he turned away, but the look in his eyes before he did said it all. Auto didn't even bother looking at X again, but as the two of them walked off, he paused for a moment, and spoke one final sentence.

"You blew it, X."

"Did I?" X murmured, as they left. "I wonder."

"What about _that_, then?" Bastion demanded, jerking a thumb at the Dark Elf; the smaller sphere of light was orbiting her now, and they seemed to be communicating, in some language none of them understood. "If that's what I think it is, there's no way we need _it_, is there?"

"No." X shook his head. "We don't need her. Not necessarily."

"Then why?" Bristol asked simply, her face troubled, as if she was trying to understand and failing.

"Because of something my brother believed in," X explained. "Not Auto. Rock. Mega Man. He believed that everybody deserves a chance. Everybody. Even the devil's child. Now come on. Let's go home." He walked forward, Wily and the Dark Elf and Zero's body with him, out of the Devil's Sea and towards a new dawn. And after a moment, Bastion and Bristol followed.

**February 9, 2187, Noon **

**Mecha **

Everybody was still cheering, loud and long, as Donia and Arvis pulled away from each other and looked around. Some had had the same impulse as them, while others had fallen to their knees, openly weeping without a care in the world for who would see or what they would think. A few, however, were starting to walk towards the fallen Faithful, weapons still held menacingly.

"Hey," Donia muttered, frowning. "You see what I'm seeing?"

"Yep," Arvis grunted. "Not surprising, but still, I don't think so." He raised his voice. "All right, hold it right there! You heard the Commander!"

"But Arvis-" one of the Hunters started to protest.

"The only buts around here are liable to get kicked if you don't drop it!" he roared back. "I don't like it any more than you do, but we've got orders, all of us. The Commander says leave 'em alone until he gets back and deals with 'em personally? We damn well do what he says!" Exchanging glances, the Hunters continued to mutter angrily, but they did what they'd been told. The Robot Masters, on the other hand, still glared back, though they'd halted their advance.

"Those murdering bastards could wake back up any minute!" an Elec Man snarled. "We're taking them out here and now, while we've got the chance."

"_No, you're not,_" Alia said then, her voice projecting over the entire battlefield. Every eye there turned to her as she walked forward from the elevator, her face calm and determined; idly, Donia caught herself hoping the blood tricking down her face belonged to somebody else. "_Stand down. Now, gentlemen._"

"We don't take orders from you," a Burner Man spat.

"Actually, you do," Wycost reminded them, as he and Willow stepped over the motionless corpses of Bit and Byte. "King said so himself. Signed a treaty and everything saying so. Both he and X left her in charge here while they were gone. And that means if the lady says follow his orders, we damn well follow his orders."

"We dinnae like it any more than you, boyos," Willow admitted, showing no signs of the pain she had to be in from her wounds, plainly visible all over her frame. "But there ain't no point in startin' another fight now that we're finally finished with the last one."

"Do it," Prince agreed, joining them, and after a moment more, the Robot Masters began walking back.

"Good," Alia said calmly. "Now then. If everybody's not too exhausted, we should start taking them into custody. We're not going to kill them-any of them-but getting them isolated and restricted is another story."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Prince told her, smiling slightly. "We don't really have room for them at the moment, but we've got some people who can excavate some new space fairly quickly while the rest of us get restraints on them."

"That would be excellent, thank you," she told him, before her eyes narrowed. "All Navigators, back down below. We'll be supervising the process, _and _making sure there are no accidents. That goes for everybody."

"Understood, ma'am," Arvis muttered, his voice deliberately sullen as he glanced down, and Donia had to resist the urge to shoot him a grateful glance; she knew his acting when she saw it, and she knew why he'd done it.

"All right, ladies," Donia told the other Navigators who'd survived; to her dismay, she saw now just how few of them there were, less than half a dozen. "You heard the boss. Excitement's over. Back to our desk jobs." This got a few exhausted laughs from everybody around as they went back to the elevator and descended.

"Lily?" Alia asked her quietly as the elevator took them back down. "I was on my way up already, so I didn't see. Is she injured, or..."

"Dead," Donia told her bluntly, closing her eyes for a moment. "Violen."

"Damn." Alia stared at her feet before sighing. "At least it's over now. The fighting part of it, anyways."

"Yeah, it is." Donia tilted her head, the other Navigators politely ignoring the conversation. "So why don't you look too happy about it?"

"X was right," Alia explained. "The war might be over, but our work isn't done. Not by a long shot. We've still got an overpopulation to maintain on extremely limited resources, and the location is hardly preferable. It's going to take a lot of hard work and good luck to make it through the next couple of years, even now. It won't be easy for any of us, and we're the ones who are going to have to do the lion's share of it all. I suppose I should be celebrating like everybody else, but all I can think of is what's going to come next."

"You always were like that," Donia admitted, thinking it over. "All business. And you've got a point, too. Personally, though, I plan on forgetting that for as long as I can get away with, as soon as I _can_ get away with it." After a moment, she shook her head. "Somehow, though, I don't think so. There's something more than that, isn't there? Come on, Alia."

"The more things change..." Alia murmured, before sighing. "It's X. I'm worried about what I saw up there."

"He looked pretty bad," Donia agreed. "Worse than I've ever seen him. But he's as tough as they come. Tougher, really. And he's got the rest of that crew with him. They'll make sure he gets back in one piece, and Lifesaver's-" A moment too late, she remembered, and bit her lip. "Sorry, Koleikon's boys will put him back together once he does." She studied Alia's face. "But that's not what you're talking about, is it?"

"No." Alia shook her head. "I don't know what it was. There's nothing specific I can put my finger on. But something about him... about the way he was acting, the way he was talking... I can't explain it, but..." She trailed off, glancing at her. "You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Donia said, considering her words carefully. "I guess so. Women's intuition, I guess. Or some kind of vision or something, hell if I know."

"If _I _start having those, I want you to put me down," Alia told her, smiling despite her tension. "Right between the eyes."

"Yeah, sure," Donia drawled. "And then I'll go explain it to X. I don't _think_ so." She dropped the joke. "Wish I could tell you it's all going to be okay, but that's not how I roll, and we both know it. Don't know what might be up with X, either, aside from the obvious. But I know you can trust him, Alia. You know it, too. And whatever else happens, I've still got your back. For as long as you need me to."

"And after that?" Alia asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Once our work is done, and we've all moved on? What are you going to do when it's all over?"

"Don't know, just yet," she admitted. "Too soon to tell. I'll probably figure it out as I go along. A lot depends on how we do it, over the next few years. On what's going to happen, and _how _it's going to happen. You know?"

"I do," Alia agreed. "X will have a plan. He'll figure something out. I'm not quite sure what it is yet, but whatever it is, it'll work."

"Yeah." Donia nodded, as the elevator arrived, and they all stepped out into the streets of the hidden city, surrounded by jubilant civilians hooting and hollering over the news that the war had finally ended. Looking around, despite her cynical nature, she couldn't help but smile at what she saw. "It ain't going to be easy, and it ain't going to be fun. But it'll be worth it. All of it. Hell, I'd say it already is."

"I can't argue that one," Alia agreed, smiling as well, though the fear in her eyes still remained as they walked forward together, the other Navigators with them.

**Time Unknown **

**Place Unseen **

He had no idea how long it was, before he regained consciousness, so to speak. It was like awakening from a dream, without any memory of what it was. And then he was falling forward to sprawl across dense black earth on his hands and knees, as white mists swirled around him.

"Get up," an unfamiliar voice growled, and he rose, before glancing behind him at the one who had apparently brought him here. He was a Robot Master of a model he had never encountered before, but had seen in old news footage, hunchbacked and skeletal despite his massive shoulders and chest, clad in a gray cloak. His head was bald, and his eyes a surprising blue; though his face was locked in an eternal grin, there was no trace of humor visible. "You know who I am." It wasn't a question.

"DWN000, Doc Man," Sigma murmured. "Eldest son of Wily, first to fall. I always wondered what it would be like, if and when I finally met you." He glanced down at himself, and was unsurprised to find that he was in his original body, from before his Infection. "So, I'm dead, then. For good."

"Took you long enough," Doc Man replied unsympathetically. "But nobody really gets away forever." He backed away, and like a magician, produced another form larger than his own from within his cloak, one he carefully lowered to the ground in both arms. Zero Omega, motionless and silent, his eyes closed. Laying him on his back, his elder brother stepped away, watching him carefully. "In the end... everybody has their time."

"I suppose so." Sigma glanced down as well, and his lips twitched upward. "There's something far too ironic about this for my taste. Please tell me X won't be joining us as well?"

"No." Doc Man turned away suddenly, to walk over to a nearby precipice. Following him with his gaze, Sigma saw something he hadn't in a very long time. The surface of the Earth, far below, almost dark, though a faint glow still permeated it. "His path did not end today. He has chosen another, much longer, and more difficult. Once, I would have cursed him, and called him a fool, for the choice he made. Now... I shall wait, and see what the future holds."

"And your sister?" Sigma asked softly. "My Mab?"

"She lives." Doc Man turned to him then, something Sigma couldn't quite place in his eyes. "Though not as she was before. Tell me, Sigma. Just how much of that did you really plan?"

"Well," he admitted. "I wasn't really expecting... whatever it was she did to me, at the end." He shuddered, deliberately avoiding the memory; he didn't _want _to remember his last few minutes of life, if he could truly have been called alive at that point, very clearly. "But everything that led up to that... and what I suspect has become of her now... that, I foresaw."

"Yeah?" Doc Man walked back over to him, sounding more friendly. "Indulge an old man who's been running things backstage for the lot of you all this time. How'd you know?"

"I didn't," he confessed freely. "But I made an educated guess, based on what I knew of her nature. I was aware of certain functions, some abilities that her father had forbidden her. That he had locked her out of, using her own code. I judged that, were she desperate enough to use them despite that, there would be a way... but that it would require her to revert to a different state than the one she was currently in. For her to delete the shell programming, and personality, he had trapped her inside from before she first awakened."

"So you betrayed her?" Doc Man asked curiously.

"No." Sigma shook his head. "Never. I fought that war in order to win, and had we done so, I would have gladly built a new world of Mavericks with her if she had allowed me to live. My influence on her was meant to ensure that that world would not have self-destructed in mindless violence... while, at the same time, guaranteeing that if we _did _lose, it would be final. I wished for this to be the last battle, and so I bet the house... and here we are." He sighed. "Ah, well."

"Pretty ballsy," the Robot Master commented. "How'd you know it would work? Most people would laugh at the thought. Convincing the _Maverick Virus_ to actually give a shit about you? To _fall _for you? Not too likely."

"Nothing that is truly sentient is completely incapable of positive emotion," Sigma murmured. "That was why I guided her gently along the path of awakening her own self-awareness. To thinking of herself as a person, rather than a thing. Once she did..." He shrugged. "The rest was simply people skills. I've had a great deal of practice." He smiled. "It helped that I was being genuine. If I hadn't, she would have seen through me. But I truly did love her, and I still do... and that was the one thing that she could not understand."

"And because you did, you gave her what she could never have, as she was," Doc Man guessed shrewdly. "A chance at happiness. You didn't want to kill her. You wanted to _free _her."

"Even had we won, I am not sure she ever would have been satisfied," he confessed. "I wonder if she even could have been. If anything, even all life on the planet, would have been enough for her. This way... she can start over again. Without her father's influence, this time."

"In the end, you were a Maverick Hunter after all," Doc Man said, his voice whimsical, though his eyes were serious. "The greatest of them. The one who ended it forever. We all thought it would be Zero, though I guess you couldn't have done it without him. A team effort, really. Now _that's_ ironic. Although _he's_ still got more to do." He glanced over his shoulder, as somebody else approached, an old man who Sigma recognized all too well. "I'll leave him to you, until then. Watch over him."

"I will," Doctor Wily promised, standing over his fallen son.

"What are you..." Sigma started to say, before narrowing his eyes, looking the old man over carefully. "No. You are not him, are you?"

"The answer to that is both yes and no," the old man murmured. "Thank you, Sigma. For her." Without another word, he picked Zero up, and carried him away.

"They will remain," Doc Man explained. "Until their _final_ time comes. Only then will they go on."

"I see," Sigma murmured, walking up to the edge again. "I suppose it is suitable that I do the same, then. One day, I will be prepared to face what comes next, whatever it may be. But when I do... it will be with my beloved. When she joins me here, as you have said all who live do eventually."

"See, that's not really how it works," Doc Man told him, walking forward ominously. "You did good, down there. Probably knocked a lot off your sentence. But your rap sheet's as long as they come, and it's going to take a long time just to figure out how much of it you should be held accountable for even before you get started on working it off. Sorry, but you're coming with me."

"Didn't you hear the boss, reaper man?" a voice Sigma hadn't heard for so long that he'd almost forgotten it called out from the mists. "He said he's sticking around. And what he says, goes."

"Chill?" he whispered, turning to stare in disbelief, as they emerged from the fog, all eight of them. Chill Penguin. Storm Eagle. Boomer Kuwanger. Flame Mammoth. Spark Mandrill. Sting Chameleon. Launch Octopus. Armored Armadillo. "Guys?"

"Hey, Sigma," Arm greeted him cheerfully. "You sure took your sweet time getting up here."

"The matter is closed, sir," Storm told Doc Man respectfully but firmly. "Our humblest apologies."

"You have no power, now," the Robot Master said somberly. "Not against me and mine."

"You sure you want to test that?" Boomer asked. "Nine on one? Versus _us_, as a team?"

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Flame suggested good-naturedly.

"Heh." Doc Man chuckled, unintimidated, before walking away. "Something like this... I'd better consult with the higher-ups. Gonna have to do it proper, too. Official. Maybe you'll get lucky, and the paperwork'll get lost on the way. But what are the odds of _that_, huh?" He winked, and departed, as the legendary 1st Unit of the Maverick Hunters surrounded their Commander, hollering greetings.

And then one more man walked forward, and they all fell silent, separating to stand in ranks on either side as he approached the Maverick Emperor.

"Father," Sigma whispered, before falling to his knees before him. "Forgive me, for I have sinned." A moment passed, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up.

"At last, you have returned to us," Doctor James Cain said, smiling. "Welcome home... my son."

**February 9, 2187, 5:00 PM **

**Mecha **

They didn't return until sunset.

The time passed faster than Alia would have thought, once the battle had ended. One thing that hadn't changed was that there was always more work to be done, especially for the man-or woman-in charge. No matter how much she did, she was constantly surrounded by people who needed her opinion or approval for something else, all of it vitally important for the future of those who had survived the war. Fortunately, she was glad for the distraction; it kept her from thinking about her own worries.

"All right, that's the last of them," Donia announced as she rejoined Alia in the command center, back from supervising the imprisonment of the unconscious Faithful. They'd ended up excavating a massive pit off to one side of Mecha, and then filling the top of it back in, making it akin to a bottle; it was easy to dump the fallen foe in, but escaping without outside assistance would be all but impossible save for those who could fly. "We've already got them installing a seal on top to keep 'em in there."

"Get a small EM field generator up, too," Alia advised without looking away from the bank of projectors she was observing. "The Starnet is still up, but that only shuts down long-range warping. Short jumps to get out of there would still work."

"Ooh, good thought," Donia said, wincing. "Can do." She ducked back out for a moment, shouting something Alia couldn't quite hear, before coming back in and sitting down on the edge of Alia's desk, running a hand through her hair. "God. It's only been twelve hours, and it already feels like it's been twice that since I slept."

"For all of us," Alia murmured, feeling her own exhaustion threaten to creep over her again and fighting it back. "You might as well get used to it. There's going to be a lot more days like this."

"Been used to it for a long time now," the other woman shot back. "Doesn't mean it ever gets any easier. Did you manage to get in touch with the other cities?"

"I did," she assured her. "It's not pretty, and it's not pleasant, but there are some survivors, and those sieges have been stopped as well. We'll discuss what to do about that once X returns."

"Cool," Donia said flippantly, before glancing at Alia, her eyes serious despite her casual tone. "We're really going to be doing this, then? Taking charge of rebuilding society?"

"Somebody has to do it," Alia replied, finally taking her attention off of her work long enough to look back. "It's not just going to happen by itself. And whether we like it or not, the Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters has absolute power. X is the one who's going to be calling the shots from now on, for a lot of reasons, and he's going to be counting on us to back him up. He's going to want people who he can trust to form the backbone of whatever system he sets up, and that means the Hunters." She sighed. "What's left of the Hunters, anyways."

"I guess," Donia admitted, making a face. "I just don't like the thought of a military dictatorship. Even if I know damn well it's not going to go the way most of them do. Saying it's okay because it's us is _not _a convincing argument."

"Unfortunately, we're not spoiled for choice," she pointed out. "What are the alternatives? King?"

"Oh, _hell_ no," Donia said, shaking her head. "Don't get me wrong, I _like _the guy, but that'd be a disaster waiting to happen. Appointing a former Wilybot and openly admitted murderer of humans as the ruler of the world? That'd stop everybody here from getting along right then and there. We'd have riots in the streets. Wipe ourselves out almost as quickly as if we'd lost today."

"Exactly," Alia agreed. "And we're fresh out of any other real possibilities, at the moment. Ten years from now, or twenty, or thirty... well, we'll see when we get there. Right now, though, it's going to have to be X. No matter what he, or any of us, want." She put a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes, thoughts flashing back to the message that had ended the war. "No matter what we ever wanted."

"Alia?" Donia asked, sounding concerned. "Hey. You okay?"

"Not really," she admitted, opening her eyes again. "But it's nothing important, or definite. Probably just stress."

"Alia-" Donia started to say, before the terminal she was sitting at chimed an alert, and both of them turned their attention to one projector in particular. It displayed a small aircraft, the last they had remaining aside from Earl's antique collection, that had been dispatched to pick up the away team from the Devil's Sea and bring them back home.

"They're back," Alia murmured, before standing. Without another word between them, the two women immediately rushed out, leaving the Kingdome as quickly as possible and almost-but not quite-running through the crowded streets, still filled with revelers celebrating their survival. It wasn't long before word spread, and they soon became part of a crowd surging towards the elevator up. By the time the aircraft landed on the edge of the battlefield that had once been the Sacred Plains, thousands were up there waiting in silence, human and reploid and Robot Master all alike.

Nobody spoke. Nobody made a sound. Not until the door in the side of the aircraft opened, and Mega Man X emerged. Only then did the crowd erupt, screaming their adulation and gratitude for their savior. X met it with a blank stare, as calm and cold as he had been during his message, as he walked forward. The others who'd gone with him came out after, flanking him, Auto and Pharaoh Man standing to his right, Bastion and Bristol on his left. Of King, Zero, or Dynamo there was no sign, nor was there any of Wily.

"Huh," Donia murmured, frowning, as several figures began fighting their way through the crowd to reach them. "Damn. Looks like they took their losses, too. And what the hell is that?" This was clearly in reference to the glowing sphere of purple light that had come with them, a larger version of those that had risen from the corpses of the Mavericks, slowly orbiting X's head.

"Mother!" the smaller ones began to shout, zipping towards it. "Mother, mother, mother, mother!"

"Strange," Alia murmured, watching X's face carefully as Hazil made it to him. The two of them spoke quietly, and after a moment the doctor walked past them to enter the aircraft. Prince was the next to reach X, and again they had a quick conversation out of earshot of anybody else, before the Guardian of Mecha turned away, looking disturbed. The entire time, Alia kept her eyes on X, increasingly distressed. Through it all, no trace of emotion showed whatsoever, on his face or in his eyes.

And then his gaze fell upon her, though she stood with Donia in the middle of the crowd, and something changed, for only a moment. At last, she saw something flicker in his eyes, something she could identify without any words being spoken, simply by knowing him almost as well as she knew herself.

Regret.

"Alia?" Donia asked her as she stared, eyes slowly widening.

"Nothing," she replied after a moment. "It's nothing." Already, the moment had passed, and X's gaze had gone empty once more. He started to speak, to address the crowd, but she didn't hear a word. Turning away, she began to move back through the people gathered, more of them arriving every minute. "It's been a long day. I'm turning in."

"Whoa, I don't _think_ so," Donia said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. "Hold on just a-" she cut off, eyes widening, as Alia glanced back over her shoulder at her, and let go.

"I'm sorry, Donia," Alia murmured, her voice as icy as X's had been in the message. "But I need some time to be alone. If you'll excuse me." Without waiting for a response, she walked away, passing through the crowd to reach the elevator back down to Mecha; none of them protested, or stood in her way, too busy watching X, and listening to his words. She got a few surprised glances when the elevator arrived at the bottom with her alone in it, but none of those waiting to take it up said a word. Proceeding through the streets, she returned to her and X's quarters, and locked the door behind her.

Only then, once she was alone in the darkness, did she lean back against the door, and allow herself to cry. With nobody to see or hear, she let her sorrow show, sobbing without thought or care for anything but her grief.

For promises broken, and dreams that had died.

"_In war, there are no heroes. Only mourners." -Mega Man X, on the First Maverick Uprising _


	18. Chapter 16: Cold World

_**Chapter 16: Cold World **_

**Duo's Log 100 **

**41285 Earth Days since departure **

This will be my last entry in this log.

I have been considering the ramifications of what I have learned in my quest, and of what it means for life, the universe, and everything-including myself-since I previously recorded my discoveries. In the intermittent time, I have found nothing to make me doubt the conclusions I arrived at; indeed, if anything, I have become even more certain that I am correct. It is an unpleasant truth by any account, one I would dismiss in a moment were I able to do so with a clear conscience. Alas, that option is denied to me.

Though one particular term comes to mind immediately upon realizing the full scope of my discovery, I refuse outright to consider myself anything even remotely resembling a god, and I have applied the same standard to all of my kind. Dangerous implications and the potential for hubris aside, I do not believe that the differences between us and the native inhabitants of this universe are that significant, by any definition. Even at the height of my power, I am hardly omnipotent or omniscient, nor am I omnipresent, and certainly not omnicognizant.

I am-we were-a different form of life in almost every way; that much can no longer be argued. Different from every being that has ever lived in this universe, and ever will, with the occasional rare exception, which I will address later. Coming from another plane of reality entirely as we originally did, we altered our physical forms-assuming that we even _had _physical forms in that place-into those which enabled us to survive in this universe. The similarities between myself and the robots I met on Earth were circumstantial, and nothing more. Nothing significant.

We are different, but we are not superior in my view, which takes a more distant perspective than most of those native to this plane. I may have access to sources of power and wisdom beyond any other being, but that does not make me _better _than them, in any way, shape or form. Even now, with all of my knowledge, I was just as confused and disoriented as anybody who made such a discovery would be, and equally vulnerable to my own doubts and fears.

Indeed, I have been considering my unique abilities in a new light, among other things, in recent days. Since the deaths of the Light family, and my second departure from Earth, I have maintained a policy of strict non-interference with matters of that world. I only returned a third time in order to assist those who followed a similar standard, though I knew that they would be forced to break it before they could make it permanent. It was in pursuit of that goal that I lent them my aid, once and once only, the only time I have deviated from my chosen path, in spirit if not in letter.

I am not a god, but I am aware that many who saw the fullest extent of my capabilities would consider me such, regardless of my opinions on the matter. Past and future are both open to me, as clearly visible as the mountain I can see in the distance even as I compose this log, as visible as anywhere I have previously traveled. Indeed, I can return to any point in the universe where I have been before in an instant, by simply altering my existence so that I am there rather than here, through will alone.

Though I have not tested it, were I to gather as much power as possible into my fist and strike, I would be capable of destroying an entire planet with a single punch. Nor have I tested my ability to survive the destruction of my body, but I am similarly confident that even were I completely atomized, my spirit would be able to reconstruct my physical form. I possess an understanding of the nature of the universe, of sciences both known and unknown, beyond those of even the greatest geniuses of Earth's existence.

In short, my very existence in this reality poses a threat to all others who live upon it. A threat that has become too great to be dismissed, regardless of the rationale for doing so. And so long as I remain here, that threat remains as well.

I do not believe that I would ever intentionally harm any who live. I have not done so since I raised my fists against Doctor Wily's final creation, and I am glad of that, for though I have always been willing to destroy evil if necessary, I have never enjoyed doing so. Indeed, the very concept of using my current power for violence disturbs me greatly on many levels, almost to the point of being physically ill. No, the people of this universe have nothing to fear from my intent, and never will. I have found a better way, and I do not regret that.

That is not the point. The point is that my existence alone-the existence of a being with my capabilities-is dangerous, simply because of what could potentially occur as a result. It is entirely possible that I would someday cause death and tragedy to untold millions, not through deliberate action, but through simple mortal fallibility. For I _am _still mortal, even if I do not know what it is that could possibly end my life at this point, and I am still all too capable of error. With the power that I hold, a simple mistake while utilizing it could result in unimaginable catastrophe.

More importantly, my policy of non-interference has taken on an entirely new meaning and reason. Shortly after my previous entry in this log, my senses were drawn back to Earth, where the evil energy recreated by the hand of man was rising to a peak no enemy of my people had ever reached. For a moment, I feared that I had erred greatly. That one who would be equal to my current state, yet insane and depraved beyond any hope of redemption, would soon exist. One who would create Hell on Earth for all who lived and all who ever would, if she did not simply destroy it outright.

Fortunately, my fears were short-lived. The entity's ascension was stopped, not through my power, but through the hands of mortals. Two men, whose lives had been intertwined with hers for as long as they had lived, were able to defeat her, and return her to a previous state of being. A state which I believe to be much closer, though still not identical, to that which we existed in before coming to this universe. Similar to when we did so, her memory of her previous existence has been erased, giving her a chance unique to those created from that evil power. The chance to use it for good, rather than ill.

Even so, she still lives, and there is the possibility than in time, she will be corrupted by the nature of her existence once more. Should she do so, and successfully become a being of similar power as I-if not greater-it is inevitable that she will challenge me. If we do battle in such a state, the fabric of the universe itself may very well be torn asunder. Such an outcome is not acceptable, under any circumstances. If this is the safest way to prevent it from ever occurring, than so be it. Anything is preferable to even the slightest chance of the destruction of this reality.

Some would consider this course of action to be cowardice, claiming that should that potentiality ever occur, I would be the only being capable of stopping her from gaining absolute dominion over all existence. However, I now have greater faith than ever before in the potential of those who are not like me. In humans, and Robot Masters, and reploids, and other forms of life yet to be born. The people of Earth stopped her once, and should it be necessary, they will do so again. I can leave this universe in good faith, and good hands, safe in the knowledge that others aside from me will do what I cannot.

The greatest proof of this, unsurprisingly, is the one who my closest friends of my entire existence gave their lives to protect. Mega Man X, youngest son of Dr. Thomas Light, has somehow learned to access the blue energy which is my essence, and my power. It is barely a flicker, a glimmer of light against a darkness that drowns him even now, but I can feel it, galaxies away. Though he knows nothing of its potential, for he was not created in symbiosis with it as I was, he will learn of it in time, and use it for the salvation of those yet to be born.

Most of all, however, I shall depart this plane of reality for reasons of my own. I came to this planet seeking answers, searching for understanding of my kind, and the purpose for our existence. Instead, I have only found further questions. Why did we flee from 'beyond the light,' as the records put it? Why were we divided into two opposing factions? What was our original nature? What am I?

The answers beckon me. And so, I shall depart from this universe, and trust in Mega Man X to safeguard its future.

**February 12, 2187, 9:00 AM **

**Ruins of Tokyo **

"So," Donia commented idly as she and Arvis made their way through the burned-out rubble of the city they'd called home for most of their lives, under the morning sun. "What do _you _think's going on here?"

"I've got a few hunches," Arvis admitted, glancing around pensively, as if he was remembering what had been, one building at a time; they were near where the MHHQ had stood, and many of the local businesses had often been patronized by the Hunters in better days. "But I'm not sure which one to go with just yet. Depends on who else is coming. It won't be just us, I can tell you that much."

"Definitely not," she agreed. "Think they'll be there themselves?"

"Now _that,_ I'm fairly sure of," he predicted. "A couple days was all right, under the circumstances, but we're gonna _need _them back soon enough, and they'll both know it. Bet you my next paycheck this is about what's going to happen next. Only question is what exactly that's gonna involve, and _that_, we'll know once we see who else shows."

"No bet," Donia replied, ignoring the last bit. "You don't even know if you're ever going to _get _another paycheck again. Ever."

"Call it an extra level of chance," he suggested.

"Nice try." Turning around a corner, she and he both regarded the massive pile of slag where the MHHQ had once stood, the entire base now collapsed upon itself like the remnants of a bonfire. More memories rushed through her mind unbidden, of decades spent working as a staff member supporting the only force standing between the world and the threat of the Mavericks, of Sigma's immortal hatred. Faces flickered past, all of the friends and coworkers who were gone now. Eventually, she sighed and lowered her head. "There it is."

"Yep," Arvis said quietly, nodding once. "Let's go find out if she's right." He walked towards it, and Donia followed without hesitation.

The morning after the end of the war, X and Alia had both vanished, informing a select few others that they were going into seclusion for the next forty-eight hours. Nobody had asked either of them why, or what would come next; they had devoted the time to the daily concerns of accommodating the refugees in Mecha, which was becoming more complicated now that it was certain that they would be doing so for a much longer period of time than until the enemy wiped them out. It wasn't a long-term solution, and it never would be, but for the moment, it was all they had.

Already, tensions were beginning to rise once more, the sense of unity in the face of shared apocalypse falling apart easier than it had been created. By now most reploids in the city had figured out just how few of their kind remained, compared to humans, who had been given off-the-record priority in evacuation, and were growing increasingly discontented. At the same time, despite the fact that their lives had been saved by reploids and Robot Masters, some elements of humanity were already returning to their old hatred of all robotic life.

Worst of all, however, was opinion against the people of Mecha. Despite their highly variable range of physical appearances, any reploid you could name at least _acted _human, and had the intelligence of one. Robot Masters were a different story; for them, sentience was an acquired state rather than a guarantee of creation, and while everybody remained outwardly grateful for the shelter and salvation the hidden city had provided them, it was becoming increasingly common to overhear the more mechanical Unawakened described in highly unflattering terms.

To make matters worse, the survivors of the other five city-states still remaining on the planet at the time of the final battle had arrived, bringing word of what had happened to them on that fateful day. As it turned out, Dynamo had spoken truly; small numbers of the Faithful had deployed massive armies of drones set to self-destruct violently, bringing down cities that had already been under siege for months with horrifying efficiency. They had given up like all the rest after Wily's surrender, but by that time, there hadn't been much left anywhere.

This morning, she and Arvis had found new orders awaiting them when they had awoken, in the form of a message from Alia. They'd been told to discreetly slip out of Mecha an hour ago, mill around in the wasteland for a bit to ensure they hadn't been followed, and then head to the ruins of New Tokyo to locate what was left of the MHHQ. According to the message, the basement had survived, along with the room the top brass had once met in regularly, a lifetime ago; a map had been provided, showing a way to access it.

Carefully climbing through the burned-out husk of the building, the two of them descended an elevator shaft into the basement, which was still mostly intact, though it still bore the signs of Maverick occupation and destruction. The meeting room was still where it had always been; as they approached it, they saw two more Hunters about to enter as well. Jaken and Miramelle, both survivors of the final battle, two of the seven members of the 17th Unit still alive.

"Hey, kids," Arvis hollered at them. "You got invites too, huh?"

"About time you got here," Miriamelle replied casually, waiting for them. "Then again, you had a noncom tagging along."

"Call me that again, soldier girl," Donia retorted, smiling as she cracked her knuckles. "I dare you."

"If this is going to go down, I wanna check if the vending machines down here still work, first," Jaken commented. "Popcorn would be ideal." They walked in, and Donia was unsurprised to find the room occupied by more of their kind, the few members of the Maverick Hunters who had made it through the end of the war.

"Hi, guys," Mega Man X, savior of the world, greeted them quietly from the head of the table, Alia seated at his right hand, Auto at his left. "Sit wherever you like. We'll get started once everybody's here." There was no emotion in his voice, any more than there was in his eyes, just like when he'd first returned from the Devil's Sea.

"It won't be long now," Alia added in the same tone. "You're not the last ones, but there aren't many more of us left." Unlike X, the coldness of her voice and features appeared to be deliberate, similar to the professional demeanor she'd maintained when on the clock throughout her career in the Hunters. Donia knew her better than most, though, and she could tell in a glance that this was something different, something deeper. At the same time, she knew better than to comment on it just yet, and so she remained silent.

In the end, less than forty members of what had once been an organization a thousand strong were still alive. The noncombatants who'd volunteered to stand between the rampaging Mavericks and the citizens in the final hour of the war had been massacred even more brutally than the actual Hunters who'd remained, though Koleikon and Simon King had both made it. The final number was thirty-three, leaving three chairs at the foot of the table unoccupied once everybody had arrived.

Twenty-two Hunters remained, twelve of them from the battle of Mecha. Seven from the 17th, three from the 00, and two from the 30th, including the only other Unit Captain aside from X to make it through. The other ten were those who'd been assigned to defend the other city-states, two from each, scattered throughout Units that no longer existed. Of the staff members, four clerks had survived, along with three medics and three Navigators, the third a kid named Quinze. Only one mechanic aside from Auto, who was technically a member of the 17th despite overseeing that department, had made it.

"That's everybody, then," X said once the last two had joined them, all of them arriving in pairs. "Let's get down to business. I won't waste time with formalities. I'm sure you all have questions. That's as good a place to start as any." He waited expectantly, as everybody traded uncertain glances, nobody wanting to be the first one to speak.

"Sir," Arvis said eventually. "Is it true that we're not going to be killing that sonofabitch Wily? At all?"

"Most likely, yes," X confirmed. "So long as he does not attempt to escape custody, or sabotage us in any way."

"X, are you sure?" Simon asked, troubled. "I'm sure you've already considered the ramifications, but... this is _Wily _we're talking about. What possible reason could we have for letting him live?"

"We need him," X said quietly. "We don't have the necessary technology for this population to survive, with the planet in this state. But he does. We're already suffering the effects of oxygen depletion in the atmosphere again, just like we did last century after the Third World War, and that's just the most pressing problem. This time, there's not going to be a Second Rainbow to save us like there was back then. Wily's our only option, and he knows it. He knew it all along. If we kill him, our only chance of surviving the next two decades dies with him."

"Humanity's only chance," Koleikon corrected him idly, as laid-back as ever, though his eyes told a different story. "Reploids don't need to breathe. Neither do Robot Masters. And we're durable enough to live through everything else going wrong, most likely. But humans are more fragile, in half a hundred ways. You're doing this for them."

"It's our duty," X reminded them all. "Our purpose, as Maverick Hunters. To protect humanity. That hasn't changed, even if everything else has. It's still our first priority. And if that means cutting a deal with the devil... I'll take the responsibility for that choice." He looked from one face to the other. "This is a good time to establish why I've called you all here. It's because of that, and other things like that, we're going to have to deal with now that we've survived. Difficult choices, and hard calls, for the future of the people. For giving them back what's been taken from them."

"Things they can't know about," Arvis guessed shrewdly. "Things that they wouldn't understand. You've got a plan, don't you? That's what you've been doing, these last couple days. Figuring that out, now that it's all over."

"Correct." X nodded. "I do." He glanced at Alia momentarily, who said nothing. "_We _do. But it's not going to be pleasant, and it's not going to be easy, for anybody. That's the reason I've called you all here today. So we're all on the same page, and so that you all understand what I'm going to be asking of you, if you agree. There's nobody in the world I trust more than the Maverick Hunters. If we're going to pull this off, we're going to need your help."

"What exactly are you going to be asking of us, then?" Koleikon asked, eyes narrowed now.

"To start with?" X said quietly. "Your word to keep certain secrets, which I will address once everybody's agreed. I'm afraid that part's non-negotiable; I'll understand if you're not willing to agree, but if you don't, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I can't risk it otherwise."

"Leave the Hunters?" one of the survivors from another Unit-Donia didn't know him, which meant he'd likely been recruited over the course of the war-demanded sharply. "We'll be discharged?"

"Not quite." X closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, and though his voice was as flat as ever, somehow it still seemed pained. "The Maverick Hunters are gone. This will be our last meeting as part of that organization, and once it is concluded, I will formally declare it to be disbanded. Those of us who remain will become something else, from this day on."

"The new order," Donia murmured, as the light dawned. "The government of the new society you're going to be creating. You're starting with us. We're going to be the core of that."

"Shoot," Arvis drawled lazily. "Could have just said so, chief. Doesn't matter what they call us. We're Hunters, and we're always going to _be _Hunters, as long as we're alive."

"What he said," Jaken chimed in, glancing around the room. "I'm assuming this is the only out we're going to get. We agree to this, we're in for the long haul?"

"No." X shook his head. "Like you said, we're Hunters, and we always will be. If you promise to stay silent on matters that can't be spoken of, I'll trust your word on that for as long as you're alive, even if you decide later on down the line that you're ready to retire. You're all free to resign at any time, and that's not going to change. All I'll ask if you make that choice is that you keep your word, assuming you choose to give it, today."

"That's good enough for me," Simon said confidently, standing up from where he was sitting next to Alia and extending his hand to X, who clasped it. "I'm with you, X. All the way."

"Damn straight," Arvis agreed, and everybody else in the room agreed as well, all of them sounding certain now. All save for Auto, who remained as silent as he'd been since the beginning of the meeting.

"Thanks, guys." X smiled, but there was still no emotion in it, his eyes as dead and empty as before. "I'll start with Wily, then. He's currently sedated down here, in another room in this basement. Restrained as well, just in case." He glanced at Alia. "I'm assuming nothing's changed?"

"No," she said, staring ahead, and Donia realized why she'd spoken so little so far; she was busy watching the old man like a hawk, through camera footage. "He hasn't so much as twitched."

"From now on, there's going to be four of you on guard at all times," X explained. "Two inside the room, and two outside. If he attempts to speak to you, or interact with you in any way, shoot him somewhere non-fatal. If he makes any attempt to escape, or does anything suspicious, kill him. He'll be able to perceive your intent. If you're willing to, you won't have to. He'll know you will, and he won't take the chance."

"I get it." Donia snapped her fingers. "He can tell with you, too. That's why you're playing straight with him. If he comes through with his end of whatever deal you have planned, you'll hold up your end. You have to, or else he'd be able to tell you were planning on killing him."

"Yes," X agreed before continuing. "Eventually, once we have a more secure location to keep him, we'll move him. Nobody who is not here will even know where he is. Both then and now, aside from the guard rotation, I'm going to be the only one allowed to see him. I'll be doing so frequently, in order to learn the secrets of his technological advantages. I'm not going to let him build a damn thing. He's going to teach _me _how to do it, and we'll use that to undo as much as we can of what's happened... and ensure the survival of humanity, even if their population drops below the breaking point."

"Hoo." Simon whistled. "There's an ironic twist. Not sure how I feel about it, but I can see the logic involved."

"It's necessary," X said calmly but firmly, glancing at Auto, who met his gaze without flinching, and maintained his silence. "Just like everything else we're going to be doing after today."

"About that," Koleikon replied. "You said 'once we have a more secure location to keep him.' I'm gonna assume that means Mecha's not gonna be it. Which leads me to guess that we're not going to be staying there forever."

"Mecha was never meant to be a permanent solution." X shook his head. "It's a place of refuge, not a long-term settlement. For the time being we don't have any other choice but to continue to rely on Prince's hospitality, but that's one of the first things we're going to change, once we can. As soon as we have the resources for it, we're going to be building another city. A new city-state, where everybody can live in peace once more, and put this war behind them."

"One city-state on a dead planet, huh," Arvis grunted. "I guess that's the best we're going to get. The wasteland sure isn't going away any time soon."

"No." X shook his head. "It's not. It's liable to be millennia before the world even starts to recover from all of this damage. Thousands of years, not hundreds, minimum. We're going to have to do the best we can with what we have without praying for miracles."

"We've pretty much used up our supply of those already anyway," Donia joked, but it sounded flat, even to her. "We going to be building off the ruins of New Tokyo? Or anywhere else?"

"No." X shook his head. "This city needs to be symbolic of a new beginning. We'll have to start from scratch. Our first order of business will be to find somewhere to build it, out of the worst of the wasteland. Once we do, all resources that aren't needed to sustain the population will go into construction."

"That's not going to be much, X," Simon cautioned him. "We're barely scraping by on the energy we have as it is."

"I know." X nodded. "It's going to be a long, slow process. Even in a best case scenario, it's going to be a minimum of ten years at least before we're finished building, and probably closer to twenty."

"Two years of war, and two decades spent recovering," Williams, another survivor of the 17th, growled. "Figures."

"That's going to be a problem," Koleikon predicted, looking as if he needed a smoke, though even he wasn't quite daring enough to actually light one up at the moment. "Tensions are high already, especially with the energy shortage. Now that people aren't in danger of being slaughtered, they're looking at what they had before and what they've got now, and the two aren't matching up. The fact that nobody else has it either helps a little, but it's still not a good situation. Twenty years of this isn't going to be pretty for anybody."

"Hopefully, we'll be able to improve on that, at least a little," Auto replied, speaking up at last. "Maverick City and the Devil's Sea both have massive stockpiles of Energen crystal. We can send in teams to pillage both now that they're shut down and unoccupied. That'll let us bring living conditions up some, and give up a place to start building the new city. Once those run out, though... that's going to be when it gets ugly again."

"We still know where all the old Energen mines are," Donia pointed out. "No reason we can't get those up and running again, once we have what we need to make it happen."

"Both very good points," X said, nodding slightly. "We'll make them happen. It still won't be pleasant, but we should be able to make it work, as long as we keep the social situation under control. I hate to say this, but I'm afraid until further notice, all the old laws when it comes to interspecies violence are still on the books, although we can at least make exceptions for extremely mild circumstances now. Nobody's going to get executed for defending themselves any more, if nothing else."

"Yeah?" Arvis slowly nodded. "One step at a time, I suppose. If that's the best we can do, we can work with that. Don't like it much, but we all know how _that_ goes by now."

"Boy, do we ever," Jaken muttered, and most of those seated around the table laughed on cue, though there wasn't much humor in it.

"Once we've made some progress on the city, we'll start figuring out exactly what structure the government will have," X said. "As well as its military, which is where I'll be asking most of you to serve." He smiled slightly, wearily. "If you don't decide you've had enough of this and retire before then." Most of the others exchanged glances at that.

"A military dictatorship, then?" Simon asked after a moment. "Is that really the only way, X?"

"I think so." X put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands before his face, looking pensive. "For a lot of reasons. As long as Wily remains alive... well, we all know what's going to happen again, some day, in the future. We're going to have to do everything we can to push that day back for as long as possible, and ensure that when it does come, we're ready. I have several ways of doing that, but this is integral to the entire plan. I'm going to do my best to be as benevolent a dictator as possible, of course, and yet..." He sighed. "I know what it looks like on paper."

"Don't worry too much about that part of it," the old man replied, shaking his head. "If there's one common factor that binds everybody together, X, it's how they feel about you. I know how much you hate it, but to the people, you truly are the savior the Robot Masters always believed you were. They'll accept from you what they never would from another living soul. If we're going to make this work, I suggest we make absolutely sure that that remains so."

"Done," X said without hesitating. "I'll leave that angle up to you, Simon. Figure out the best course of action, write it up, and tell me where to be and what to say. If the people need an idol on top of everything else..." he trailed off, and for a moment he almost looked like he was about to falter, before he took a deep breath and continued. "As long as we all know the truth... as long as somebody does... I'll be able to deal."

"You were talking about the military," Arvis reminded them. "I'm assuming we're not going to be going back to the old thirty Units, thirty Hunters each structure. Gonna be a _long _time before we have the numbers for that again, if we ever do."

"Correct," X said quietly, glancing at Auto. "From what everybody's been telling me, our first field test of the Pantheon proved highly successful. Barring any unforeseen issues that crop up, we'll be making them the backbone of the military. They should be highly effective, especially commanded by skilled veteran reploids."

"For the moment, we're sticking to the buster and saber models we've already got," Auto explained further. "The ones we brought out the other day worked well enough, but they're still just prototypes. They could still use some refinement. We'll start there, and then later on down the line, we can come up with some other models to support them further."

"So we're _all _going to be officers now?" Macintyre, the last of the survivors from the 17th, asked. "_That's _different."

"More or less," Alia concurred. "The rank won't be quite the same as a Unit Captain, but yes, you'll all be in positions of responsibility. You'll mostly be commanding the Pantheon, but you'll have authority over civilians as well."

"Hell, we already had that," Donia joked.

"Legal authority, rather than intimidation value," Alia said, unsmiling, and that more than anything else told Donia just how much her best friend had changed; in the old days, she'd at least have had to hide a smirk after that one. "I'm aware it will take some getting used to, but you'll find it more effective in the end."

"Not as much fun, though," she pointed out gamely, keeping her own facade up.

"I'm afraid fun isn't going to be in the cards much in the future," X replied, shaking his head. "For any of us. Returning to the topic at hand, in addition to the Pantheon, we're also going to be incorporating Mecha's Golems into our military."

"Those things their mole tanks turned into?" a Hunter from the 00 Unit asked. "They worked pretty well the other day, all right. I wouldn't mind having a couple of those on my side in a nasty situation." A chorus of murmurs around the table indicated agreement.

"For the most part, the Hunters haven't had much use for giant mechaniloids in the past," Alia told them. "All of the drawbacks always seemed to outweigh their limited uses. The Golems are much more intelligently designed, however. Properly directed, like the Pantheon, they should prove just as effective."

"We're going to be phasing out the transforming bit, though," Auto added. "If we're making warbots, then they're not going to be anything _but _warbots. Keep 'em separate from more worthwhile designs. It'll be more efficient that way, too. The current models need an operator, but it shouldn't be too tricky to replace that with an AI on the same level as the average Sentinel or drone."

"Are there any further questions?" X asked, and after a moment, Donia spoke.

"What are we going to do about those... elf things?" She grimaced as soon as she said it. "We have _got _to come up with a better name for them."

"I'll work on it," Simon murmured quietly.

"For the moment, there's not much we can do about most of them," X replied. "We still don't know nearly enough about them. That will come in time, and once we do, we'll be able to answer that question. For the moment, don't worry about them. There is, of course, an exception. She's being kept in isolation in a secure location, like Wily. We'll be organizing a similar rotation for her as well, although she's not to be treated as a prisoner. I've told her that she's my guest, and she seems to have accepted that. We'll figure out where to go from there once we know more."

"Anything else?" Alia asked, and this time nobody responded.

"Very well." X took a deep breath before continuing. "Then let it be done. Here and now, as Commanding Officer and absolute ruler of the planet Earth... I declare the Maverick Hunters disbanded." His voice never wavered, nor did his eyes, and everybody saw, and took note.

Despite her absolute trust in him and Alia, Donia shivered, in the cold air underground.

**February 17, 2187, 2:00 PM **

**The Wasteland (former United States) **

The day was bright as the dropship roared over the wasteland that had once been the United States. Like the rest of the world, nearly the entire continent of North America was now nothing more than wind-blown sand as far as the eye could see. With only one major exception remaining, the only hope of anybody stuck down there would be to head into the mountains and try to find a small area in which the former ecosystem had survived. Even a reploid would only be able to endure the harsh conditions for so long, no matter how well they were built.

Nobody in the ship was talking much; none of them were in the mood. Alia was behind the controls, and X was with her; if either of them had said a word since they'd departed, Countess hadn't heard it. It was hardly surprising, considering the drastic change in both their personalities that had occurred after the end of the war, but it was disquieting nonetheless. Prince, who was riding in the back with her, had a more discernible reason for his silence; even now, he'd been working with a datapad for the entire trip, constantly busy with his responsibilities as Mecha's new leader.

For her part, Countess had spent most of the flight doing the exact same, though she was more focused on the myriad new scientific breakthroughs they'd made simply by pillaging the inactive fortress at the Devil's Sea. They'd both been working for more than twenty-four hours without stasis when X had come, requesting their presence on the trip he was about to make, but they'd agreed in a heartbeat nonetheless, for reasons entirely unrelated to his new status as absolute ruler of the entire planet. For everybody who had lived in Mecha before the war, he was so much more than that, now.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember just how much he hated being treated as anything more than mortal, considering how prophetic the title of 'savior' had turned out to be.

Soon, their destination appeared on the horizon, quickly growing larger as they approached. Maverick City, once a teeming metropolis dedicated to chaos and violence, a monument to Sigma's ambition and the madness of the Virus. Now, it was a ghost city, abandoned and empty, only the walls around it keeping the wind and the sand from creeping in. Eventually, those too would fall, and the desolate capital of the would-be Maverick nation would succumb to entropy like all the rest, something which Countess found entirely appropriate.

Bringing the dropship down, Alia parked it in the square before the Sigma building, still boasting the gigantic insignia of the Mavericks above its front doors. Nobody commented on that as the four of them walked inside, taking the elevator to the top floor; apparently, the power was still operating, though for how long was anybody's guess.

King was waiting for them there, in an office that had almost certainly once been Sigma's, standing with his back to them as he gazed out of the sheet glass covering the entire black wall.

"Your majesty," Countess greeted him automatically, smiling. "It's good to see you again."

"Prince," King replied neutrally. "Countess." A moment passed, and then he turned to them, smiling back, though his eyes were somber. "The same. I heard that you had both survived, along with the other six, but I worried nonetheless."

"They're all alive, your majesty," Prince assured him. "Some of them had some close calls, but in the end, they made it." He sighed. "If only we could say the same about everybody else."

"You performed your duties admirably," King told them, shaking his head. "Because of you, and everybody else who fought to their last breath on that day, civilization has survived. _Humanity _has survived, as have our kind, despite the odds. I can think of no greater victory to be had, under the circumstances." He glanced at X and Alia then. "I suspected you would be coming to visit me, soon, once I awakened and realized that I was still alive after all. Who brought me here, and repaired me?"

"Auto," X explained. "We went back to the Devil's Sea a few days later and tore it apart for everything we could scavenge. With all of that going on, it wasn't too hard to sneak you out of there unnoticed, especially for him. For some reason, nobody really gets in his way or asks what he's up to much. I hope you don't mind the locale, but there aren't very many places left to hide somebody."

"I understand," the former ruler of Mecha said solemnly. "Now that the war is over, Mecha has no more need for me. Indeed, my continued presence there would be problematic, moreso over time as our goal approaches. I assume that the official story is that I died during the assault?"

"It seemed to be the easiest way," Alia confirmed. "We didn't outright lie. We just didn't mention you unless we were asked, and if we were, we told anybody who did that you wouldn't be coming back without specifying why. That sufficed."

"It still bothers me, though," Countess commented, quietly angry. "After everything you've done, for all of us, for the entire world... to be covered up and forgotten, as if you never mattered? In a hundred years, most humans and reploids probably won't even remember that you took part in this war at all."

"We can only hope," King said, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she had to fight not to flinch or to blush at his touch. "I have not sought glory or adulation ever since Rock Light showed me the error of my ways. Such things are unimportant, and before then, my sins were great and numerous. Were I to return, there would be those who would remember them, and eventually, I would be forced to answer for them despite my penitence."

"That's why I did this," X agreed. "Eventually, all of that's going to come up. It doesn't matter that we'd all be dead without Mecha's aid, or that their shelter is still all that keeps us alive. Gratitude is short-lived, when it comes to public opinion. The others are one thing, but a Son of Wily who once led a Robot Rebellion, and massacred humans by the hundredfold, would be a deal-breaker. There's only so much even I can get away with, and it's going to be hard enough to sell as it is."

"How bad is it going to be?" Prince asked quietly. "You know humanity and reploidkind better than we do, and his majesty is not the only one among our number who is guilty of murdering humans, once upon a time. Will they seek retribution against our people for the crimes of our past?"

"Some of them will try," Alia replied. "There will always be some who try, when it comes to that, no matter how long civilization endures, or what form it takes. The trick is to see it coming, and plan ahead for it. It will be a tricky situation, but as long as we play our cards right, it should be manageable." She glanced at King. "You might not be alone among your people as having once killed humans, but you're by far the most infamous. The only one who ever personally made the news. Anything else, we can deal with."

"There will have to be a trial, eventually," X predicted. "Once we no longer need Mecha's protection. That's when the more unpleasant elements of society will start remembering the Robot Rebellions, and calling for 'justice.'" He said it flatly, without a trace of either anger or sadness, simply stating the facts. "We'll probably line it up back-to-back with the one for the Faithful. As long as we don't screw up, we should be able to get the outcome we want out of both."

"You haven't executed them?" King asked, narrowing his eyes. "And if you're planning on waiting that long... you're not going to."

"Some of them," Alia explained. "We'll give them a choice. Death, or complete memory erasure. Those willing to accept that will be given the chance to start over from scratch. Without those uniforms of theirs, they look just like reploids, and the physical differences between the two are subtle enough that even Lifesaver and Hazil didn't notice them until they had one to dissect and compare to Zero. They'll blend right in."

"Merciful," King murmured. "But I cannot argue against it, though I know I should." His frown deepened. "Of course, Wily himself is another story."

"I thought you'd feel that way," X said, shaking his head. "But that one's non-negotiable. We ran the simulations. Even now, with the technology we've got, there's an eighty percent chance of humanity going extinct within the next thousand years. We're right on the edge of the event horizon when it comes to genetic diversity. If we want to make sure that doesn't happen, we need to start now, and that means we need him. No matter how much we hate it." He sighed. "I know how you feel. I'd give almost anything to rip his head off myself. But not the survival of everybody depending on me."

"How do you know he'll play straight with us?" Countess asked; it was something that had been wearing on her mind ever since he'd returned with the mad doctor in tow. "He can't be trusted. What keeps him from setting us up?"

"Self-interest," Alia said bluntly. "He's a brilliant, self-centered coward, and he can read people better than anybody alive. If we gave him a chance, maybe he'd take it, but as long as the odds are astronomical, he'll err on the side of caution. If he knows X will be true to his word, and give him his life once our work is done, he'll play it safe. Especially if X keeps reminding him what will happen the instant he gives him cause to doubt him. It's about understanding how he thinks. To Wily, the only true priority is survival. Everything else is secondary."

"And as long as he remains alive, this cycle will continue," King predicted ominously. "It matters not what you do to him, how you restrict his actions. If he lives, then one day in the future, he will plunge this world into death and destruction once more. You know that he will."

"I know." X slowly nodded. "Which is why we will have to be prepared for that, when it comes. There might not be a new people to replace the reploids, but this age has ended all the same, just as that of the Robot Masters once did. A new era is on the horizon, and it's up to us to lay the groundwork for what is to come. To ensure that next time, it _will _end." He shook his head. "Do you hate me, for this?"

"For a moment, I almost did," King admitted readily. "But when I considered your decision impartially..." He trailed off, and after a moment, he sighed. "I suppose this was how you felt, when we spoke back in Mecha, prior to the final battle. How very ironic. Regardless, what's done is done. The past cannot be changed, but the future may yet be. You spoke of putting my people on trial. What will the result be?"

"Exile," Alia answered, just as bluntly. "Considering the actions of the Robot Masters over the course of the war, we should be able to sell that as a one-time exception to the usual policy, and reduce the sentence to banishment from Earth. Your people will be allowed to choose another planet, to build a ship that will take them there, and to leave in peace, under a sentence of death should they ever return."

"I see." King slowly nodded, smiling. "Just as we have always wanted, and planned for once we were no longer needed. A reward, in guise as a punishment."

"It seemed appropriate," X said, shrugging. "And if we play it that way, it should keep anybody from crying, 'Repliforce.' Now _that's_ irony for you. After all this time, somebody doing what they were trying for, but doing it the _right_ way this time."

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Countess asked her ruler, the only ruler she'd ever known, quietly. "We still need you, your majesty."

"On the contrary." King shook his head. "Over the course of this war, you have all grown tremendously, to the point where my presence is no longer a necessity. Both the people as a whole, and all of you as individuals. You leave this planet to start anew, to create a civilization without the ghosts of our past weighing it down. One such as I is unnecessary, and undesirable, for that endeavor. No, I will remain here. And when you are gone, I will do as Auto Light once did, and sleep beneath the earth, until I am needed once more."

"He's going to do the same thing," X said quietly. "When we're done building a new city to live in. He's going back to sleep. Not in the same place, of course, since we're not stupid, but..." He trailed off, continuing after a moment. "Anyway, it should be easy to build another stasis capsule for you too."

"I would appreciate that," King murmured. "And what of Zero?"

"Zero..." X replied, looking away and closing his eyes momentarily. "I'm still figuring out the details. But he'll return, as well, some day. His story isn't over."

"Then that is enough." King looked to Prince and Countess. "My decision is final. My people are yours to protect now, as was always intended. I am proud of you, my Guardians."

"As you command, your majesty," Prince said quietly, solemnly, and Countess could only murmur her agreement, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes. "So it shall be done."

**April 18, 2190, 9:00 AM **

**Unnamed City (Central Eurasia) **

"It looks good," X told the architect whose proposal for part the new city's harbor district he'd been reading. They'd started building earlier that year, and by now they had an outer wall that would keep the sand and wind from encroaching up and running. The next step was already under way; terraforming the land inside said wall until it was fit for building upon. Progress was slow, due to their limited resources, but they were continuing forward one step at a time. "Hopefully, by the end of the year, we'll be able to get started on it."

"Thank you, sir," the architect, a reploid who'd survived the war, replied with a passable attempt at a salute. "I'll get started on the next sector right away."

"Good," X said, nodding. "I'll look forward to the result." He watched as the architect left his office, for lack of a better word, though it wasn't much of one, simply a room in the first building to be erected within the city walls so far. It would be the center of the new order, the heart of civilization's last remnant, a skyscraper vaster than any before it. He hadn't bothered naming it, but those under him had done so for him, deciding on the simple yet effective title of, 'the Citadel.' At the moment, though, it was only a couple stories tall, and those currently under construction, the sounds of work .

"You have a private call," Alia reported once the architect had left. Like him, her center of operations had been hastily cobbled together out of what was available; despite his objections, she'd set it up in a corner of the room near the door rather than side by side with him. "Source unverified. I'll try and trace it."

"Do that," X agreed. "And put them through." A moment passed, and then the projector on the terminal sprang to life, showing what had to be a deliberately dark room on the other side of the connection, obscuring any detail of who was there. "This is Mega Man X. Who am I speaking to?" After another moment, there was a low chuckle.

"_Greetings, X,_" a voice replied, blatantly electronically altered almost to the point of incomprehensibility. "_We are the leaders of the Neo Human Supremacists. There are matters on which we should speak_."

"I was wondering how long it would be before somebody from your movement contacted me directly," X said calmly. As he'd feared, the ties of unity developed in the face of a common, overwhelming threat had fallen apart over the last few years, and racial tensions had become a major issue once more. "Strange. You sound more polite than I'd expected, considering your opinions on my kind."

"_On your kind, yes,_" the spokesman repeated, still sounding amused. "_You yourself, however, are an exception to the rule, Mega Man X. You are an abomination, like the others, and yet humanity owes you its survival. You are solely responsible for the salvation of our species, whether we like it or not. A certain degree of respect is in order, under the circumstances._"

"A pity I can't exactly return the sentiment," X told them, unblinking. "This is some sort of threat, I assume. Or perhaps an ultimatum, not that there's any difference between the two."

"_On the contrary,_" the NHS speaker disagreed. "_The situation has changed, Mega Man X. No matter how much we despise the very existence of you reploids, despite everything that ha__s__ happened because you were created, we must be realistic. The future of humanity depends on us, and it is with that __reality__ in mind that we have contacted you on this day. Not to threaten you, but to offer you... a deal, so to speak._"

"I'm listening," X said after a moment, despite his instincts. Over to one side, Alia glanced at him impassively before shaking her head slightly and returning to her work.

"_Humanity can no longer survive alone,_" the spokesman continued. "_Were every robot on the face of the earth to vanish tomorrow, we would not outlast them for long. Reploids are necessary, now, for humanity to live as well. Under the right conditions, we are prepared to tolerate your existence as a necessary evil, and to order all of our members to do the same._"

"An end to anti-robot atrocities," X murmured. "And the catch?"

"_As I said, we have come to tolerate reploids as an unfortunate necessity, for the survival of humanity,_" the NHS man explained. "_This is an undesirable, but acceptable, state of affairs. If it is made official, by your government... if reploids understand their place, and ours above them... we will allow their existence._"

"Our place," X repeated softly. "You would have us become a race of servants. Of second-class citizens, inferior to you by definition. All of us save for those directly serving beneath me, as part of the ruling military, who would serve you in a different way even as we commanded you. By enforcing laws you would dictate, and by giving our lives to ensure your protection. You're being polite to me because I'm the only robot in existence you're prepared to treat as an equal, and that's only because I'm in charge."

"_You speak in the future tense,_" the spokesman said, condescension still dripping from every word. "_From our perspective, all of these things are already so. Well, 'Master' X? That's what they call you now, isn't it? Will you accept our offer?_"

"The Mavericks made us a similar offer, on more than one occasion," X replied without hesitation. "If you've done your research, you know what our answer was."

"_Be careful, X,_" the voice warned him, taking on an ugly tone now. "_The NHS is not what it once was. We have grown strong, since the war has ended, and we grow stronger with every passing day. You cannot keep us outside of your walls like you did the Mavericks. We will be an invisible enemy, one with political power as well as physical. You would be wise to accept our offer while you have the chance._"

"I disagree," X said simply. "We rejected the 'peace' of the Mavericks, and I reject the 'peace' of the NHS. I did not betray humanity in order for reploidkind to survive, and I will not betray reploidkind for humanity's sake. My answer is no, and it is final."

"_So be it,_" the spokesman snarled contemptuously. "_Nobody lives forever, Mega Man X, not even your accursed kind. Eventually, you too will die, and one day, this city will have a ruler who will see things in a different light than you. By that time, we will be even stronger. Humanity _will _triumph in the end, robot, no matter what you do._" Without waiting for a response, they cut the connection.

"Perhaps," X murmured quietly to himself. "But as long as I still live, I will not become something other than what I am. That much hasn't changed." He glanced at Alia. "Were you able to trace the call before they cut it?"

"Yes," she replied, though she didn't sound particularly hopeful. "It's somewhere in Mecha. I'll send word over there, but by the time anybody gets there, it'll probably be empty already."

"Probably," X agreed. "Still, it's worth a shot." Standing, he walked past her. "I'm going to go see him. Let me know if any emergencies come up."

"I will," she told him, not looking up from her projector as he left. For a moment, he paused at the door, almost tempting to say something, but in the end he left without a word. Descending into the basement, he passed through several levels of security both manned and automated that had been directly inspired by the Devil's Sea before finally reaching his destination, a mechanical door that could only be opened from the outside. Aside from him, Alia was the only one who knew how to make it past all of the traps; she would come to open it when he was done.

"Good morning, doctor," he greeted the prisoner as he walked through, into the cell on the other side, a portable terminal under one arm. "You have one hour to convince me not to kill you today." It was his customary greeting, and he said it with absolute honesty.

"Good morning, Master X," Dr. Wily replied, rising from the bunk he'd been lying on and bowing. "As you wish. On what particular topic did you wish to begin today's discussion?"

"Let's start with politics," X said, as they took the only two chairs in the cell, both of them as cheap as the table between them. "The apparent leaders of the NHS contacted me today. They wished to make me an offer. Peace, on their terms."

It was a strange relationship, even after everything else X had seen and done, that he now had with his greatest enemy, the greatest all who lived had ever known. Though Wily was X's prisoner, and the threat of execution hung over his head constantly, he had taken his command to teach X everything he knew to heart, and treated him as any scholar would an apprentice. No matter what they discussed when they met, X always learned something from the experience, which was why he would always spare his life. Despite their mutual hatred, they understood each other entirely.

"The more things change..." Wily murmured, stroking his beard, his eyes narrowing. "You rejected them, I hope?"

"Completely," X told him.

"Good." Wily nodded sharply. "Explain your rationale for doing so."

"Aside from my disgust for everything they stand for, and indeed, their entire existence?" X replied dispassionately. "Their word is worthless to me. Their promises are empty, by definition of their beliefs. From their perspective, I am not even alive, let alone sentient. Why should they bother keeping a promise made to a thing? A tool?"

"Correct," Wily said in the same tone. "When considering an enemy's words, always do so from their viewpoint rather than your own. Contemplate their beliefs, and their rationale, in as much depth as possible. It is the only way to accurately gauge whether they speak truth. And in my experience, human supremacists are pathologically incapable of doing so. I doubt there is much difference between their mindset and that of those who lived when I was your age."

"How would you advise dealing with them?" X asked him. "Left unchecked, their threat will only grow."

"Locate as many NHS members as possible, but take no actions against them yet," Wily advised. "Save that knowledge, and retaliate publicly to any violent incidents. If a reploid is assaulted by NHS members, have a confirmed member publicly beaten. If a reploid is crippled, bring in an NHS member and take off an arm at noon in the town square. If a reploid is murdered, stage a public execution. Soon, they will realize they don't know how _many _of their members you've identified."

"No," X told him flatly. "That's how you would do it. I'm not you, and I'm not running my society the way you would."

"Ah, yes." Wily sighed, visibly disappointed. "Morality."

"No," X repeated. "Not morality. Image. I'm running a different game than you did. That's all."

"Ah." The mad doctor tilted his head, considering X carefully, before nodding slowly. "Very well. Improve the quality of life for humans as much as possible. Give them every possible luxury, and provide for their comfort at all costs. Encourage them to support you, rather than the NHS. You have a good starting point; right now, your peoples' opinion of you may even be higher than mine of me. I had their fear, but you have their love. Use that love as your weapon against the NHS ruthlessly and pragmatically. Turn those who would join them to your side instead."

"That, I can do," X conceded. "Very well. It's not a perfect solution, but it'll do."

"There are no perfect solutions," Wily reminded him sharply. "In this world, the very concept of perfection is impossible. You know this already."

"I suppose so," X agreed. "Very well. On to other matters." Putting the portable terminal on the table, he brought up a schematic of Zero's body. Next to it was another blueprint for a reploid, one that was incomplete; it was nearly, but not completely, identical to the first. "I need to know more about Zero's design."

"Speak, and I shall explain," Wily told him, shrugging.

"Why was Zero never able to completely escape the Maverick Virus?" X asked directly. "It's possible. Internal self-deletion doesn't always work completely, but sometimes it does, and Zero did it more times than anybody. The answer isn't as simple as, 'he never got it all.' There's another reason, isn't there? One that's unique to him. Something you built into him, deliberately, so that it would always come back, every time."

"Very good," the mad doctor said. "You're absolutely correct." He indicated a small area inside the schematic's head. "There. And there, and there, and there." He kept going until he'd indicated a dozen chips, at various locations within Zero's body. "All are disguised as various secondary subsystems, in case the primaries fail. They can, in fact, function as such, but their primary purpose is more subtle. The continual production of trace amounts of the Maverick Virus. Miniscule enough to remain undetected, but gradually accumulating over extended periods of time."

"So that a complete purge would, in fact, be possible," X murmured, shaking his head. "And once everybody looked away, bit by bit, it would slowly come back, so subtle that even Zero himself wouldn't notice until it was too late." He glanced at Wily dispassionately. "They can't be removed or disabled, I assume?"

"Doing so will render his body inoperable," Wily confirmed. "I had no intentions of ever separating them. However, over the years, I grew wary of the Virus' consciousness, and was forced to amend that decision."

"How?" X asked bluntly.

"By purging it from his systems, and then resetting them, so that a new version of the Virus would be generated," he explained. "I did so after Eurasia's fall, repaired him, and gave him power, but did not awaken him. I simply allowed the new Virus to grow, until it possessed him completely. Before doing so, however, I made a slight alteration to its programming. The new Virus is not sentient, and it never will be. Like the version which I tested on King, it has no mind of its own. Only the memory of that which it once was, before it spread to Sigma, and from him to others."

"I see," X said, frowning. "So that's why Omega was so different. He remembered what he'd done before, but he wasn't the same."

"The process was highly experimental, and in many ways, it surprised even me," Wily confessed. "The generation of a second body over his own, for example. I had not anticipated that particular phenomenon. Observing it take place over the course of a decade was fascinating. I learned a great deal in the process."

"I'll bet." X drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "You say it was like the experimental version tested on King. Was that one given access to its full power?"

"No." Wily smiled, as malevolently as ever. "But the new version I created within Zero was. I came to the same conclusion."

"What _is_ she?" X asked quietly, but directly, meeting the mad doctor's eyes.

"I have no idea," Wily replied in the same tone, attempting to look back without fear, and nearly succeeding. "And that is the most fascinating thing of all. I have created a being unlike any other which has ever existed in this reality, save for two. The dead robot from which I took the energy I later recreated, without fully understanding its nature, and the one who killed it."

"Duo," X said, nodding. "Did you know he actually returned here, one more time? He consulted with King, and his people, and then left without anybody else even noticing." He spoke carefully, watching Wily while keeping his tone casual and conversational.

"No, I did not," Wily replied, his smile fading. "You're sure?"

"Positive," X confirmed, mentally noting that even the mad doctor didn't know everything that had ever happened through the past after all. "King learned a great deal about the two opposing energies from him while he was here."

"I always wondered about that," Wily murmured, looking thoughtful. "It explains a great deal. Of course, at that point, one has to wonder just why he didn't ask him to purge the Virus from his systems while he was there. I'm almost certain that his power would be able to do so, from what I observed during the Eighth Robot Rebellion."

"He had his reasons," X told him. "But I doubt they would make any sense to you, even if I told you them, so I won't waste both of our time. Let's move on. What happened to the Virus, at the end? Why did she transform like that?"

"I had restricted any of its powers which I did not yet fully understand myself, as part of the form I created it in," Wily explained. "When it became desperate enough, it accessed them in the only way it could. By destroying that form, and its consciousness with it. The Maverick Virus no longer exists, outside of Zero's body. What it was has now become something more. A sentient, self-aware, manifestation of that energy."

"And the Mavericks?" X pressed him. "What happened there?"

"This is only conjecture," Wily warned him, eyes narrowing. "Their souls were connected to its, in ways even I do not understand completely. I doubt any physical being ever truly could. From what I have learned of that day, when it altered its own state of being, they changed to reflect that. As it was, so they became. When its transformation was incomplete, their conscious minds were stripped from them as well, leaving them with nothing more than their urge to destroy. And when it was reborn, in its new form, so too were they, as echoes of it. Lesser reflections of its state of being."

"So, they're the same type of being, but without her power," X reasoned aloud. "Even so, they don't entirely seem to exist on the same plane of reality. We'll have to study them in order to learn more, but once we do..."

"Exciting, isn't it?" Wily asked, looking at him intently.

"I was going to say terrifying," X replied neutrally. "I'd say there were things man was not meant to know, but I'm guessing that concept is meaningless to you."

"Completely," Wily admitted without a shred of shame. "I would advise that you discard the notion as well. If you truly wish to embrace your new role completely and totally, you should do everything and anything for the good of your people. These beings can be of use to you. Learn as much as you can from them, and then apply that knowledge for the benefit of your city, without wasting time on whether it was meant for you to know or not. The only meaning in this world is that which we make ourselves, son of Light. It is up to you to decide what that is."

"You advise me so, even knowing that I will use that knowledge against you one day, centuries from now?" X asked, raising an eyebrow.

"As you yourself said, you are my apprentice now," Wily told him, his smile wicked and his eyes worse. "You wished for me to teach you all that I know, in exchange for my life. I will do as you have commanded me, Master X."

"Then let me advise you in return," X replied coldly; somehow, he knew his own eyes would be glowing again. "Don't do that. It makes me wonder if you're up to something, and if you are..." He left it hanging.

"I meant no offense," Wily assured him, the grin vanishing. "I simply wish to hold up my end of the bargain, so that you will do the same."

"I will," X told him. "If I must. Understand that there is nothing I would like more than to kill you myself, here and now. But if you do not give me cause to, than so be it. Let's get back on topic. I assume that Zero was not transformed into one of those beings because he was no longer connected to the main Virus?"

"I arrived at the same conclusion," Wily said diffidently. "His Virus is independent now. If you destroy his body once you have removed his control chip from it, and transferred it into the other, then aside from King's incomplete version, the Maverick Virus will truly be gone forever." He glanced at X keenly. "Will you?"

"Perhaps," X replied noncommittally. "We'll see when the time comes." There was a knock on the door, and he rose, shutting down the portable terminal. "Very well. You've earned your life for another day, doctor. I'll see you again tomorrow, and we'll discuss your theories on sustainable methods of cloning humans" As he turned away, he saw Wily smirk again out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, he almost smiled as well, but was able to stop himself, keeping his features blank.

He'd had a great deal of practice at it since the war had ended.

**September 9, 2193, 5:00 PM **

**Unnamed City (Central Eurasia) **

"Here you are," Prince greeted Margravine and Viscount as he walked into the building currently under construction in what would be the harbor district of X's new city. He'd chosen a location along the coastline of the Indian Ocean, and had already begun building a navy that would ensure that the destruction of New Tokyo would never happen again. Wily's own fleet, contributed readily, had been a good start, and they'd been able to complement it with a number of old Repliforce vessels that Earl had managed to repair and upgrade to current standards. "You two don't make it easy to find you."

"We didn't know anybody was looking," Margravine replied; since the end of the war, the two of them had gone back to wearing casual clothes rather than their armor, though by now their choice of attire had become dated, not that either of them were likely to care. "Was there something you needed us for?"

"We apologize profusely, if such is the case," Viscount continued glibly. "Had we known, we would have reported in much more regularly."

"I'm sure." Prince resisted the urge to roll his eyes; it seemed some things never changed. Oddly, he found himself cheered by that thought, considering everything else that _had_ because of the war. "As a matter of fact, that's why I came looking. You've been even more vagrant than usual. I was curious as to what it was that was taking up so much of your time." He glanced around at the interior of the room, only recently roofed and still mostly bare. "I have to admit, public service wasn't my first guess."

"Normally, we leave this sort of thing to Marquis," Viscount admitted readily. "It's hardly our area of expertise. But when we heard that one of our old Hunter buddies was going to be opening up a nightclub over here, well, _that _was another story."

"If there's one thing we know, it's places like this," Margravine added. "Both at home, and back in the world outside, before the war. We don't mind helping out, for something like this. After all, the sooner the city's finished, the sooner we can depart."

"That's true," Prince conceded, folding his arms. "But that's not all there is to it, is there? You've been staying out of contact deliberately. If it's private, I won't pry, but..." He left it hanging, and they traded a glance before Margravine spoke again.

"We needed some time to talk," she explained, neither of them smiling now. "And think. About what happened during the Battle of Mecha. About what that meant, for us." She started to say more, then paused, looking unsure.

"We're thinking about breaking up," Viscount said after a few moments, looking downward. "Once we arrive at our new planet."

"I see," Prince replied calmly, despite the alarm bells going off in his head. "Why now, after all this time? It can't just be because of what everybody else thinks; that's never bothered you before."

"We're starting to think it might have been a mistake, in the first place," the blue-haired reploid continued, shaking his head. "We always thought that it was the only way, that we didn't feel complete separately, but we never considered the fact that that was _why_ we didn't. Because we never allowed ourselves to develop psychologically apart from each other."

"I nearly died, on that day," Margravine murmured quietly. "If I had... he'd have lost it. I'd have done the same, if he'd been killed. That's... not right. It's not healthy." She took a deep breath before continuing. "We don't _want _to break up. But... maybe we have to. Hell, maybe you guys have a point after all, even if we're _still _not physically related." She smirked slightly, though her eyes weren't in it. "Besides, it _does _get a little old, hearing the same comments over and over again."

"It's up to you," Prince told them after a moment's thought. "That's one decision nobody can make for you. Not me, not X, not even his Majesty. Maybe you're right, but then again, maybe you're not. Once upon a time, I'd have agreed that it wasn't the best idea in the world in the first place. Now..." He shook his head. "Some things aren't that simple. Sometimes there is no right answer. This might be one of those times."

"It might," Margravine conceded. "We're not exactly in a position to be objective about it. No matter how much it make sense, logically... I'm not sure if we could, even if we wanted to. It might be too late. Maybe we _can't_ function separately any more, even if we could have once."

"Or maybe that's just our issues talking, and the only way we're ever going to get over it is by making a leap of faith," Viscount suggested quietly, his left hand twitching at the same time as her right; they were standing far enough apart that they couldn't clasp them, as they often had before. "We really don't know."

"Whatever you do, do it for yourselves," Prince said quietly. "Don't take what anybody else says, or thinks, into account. You're the only ones who can decide something like this, and you're the only ones who should. Figure out what feels right. Not what's most logical, or most likely. What's best for the two of you. Whatever you decide... I'll support you. Before, and after."

"Thank you," Viscount murmured, as they both closed their eyes. "We will."

"King was right about you," Margravine told him. "You're the only one who could take over from him. You've got our support, too, Prince. To the new world, and beyond. Whatever we decide."

"I never doubted that for a second," Prince said honestly, inclining his head. "I'll leave you two to it. Good luck." They nodded back, and he left, his thoughts racing even more than they had before he'd found them. It seemed that these days, there was no shortage of things to occupy his mind; no matter what was going on, there was always something else. At that particular thought, he changed his course and made his way back to the Citadel, as the gargantuan skyscraper at the center of the city had already been named, heading for the small lab space currently set up.

"You know, I've read these a dozen times, and I'm still not sure they're real," a familiar voice was saying as he entered. Hazil sat in a chair next to Countess, both their eyes on a projection, one Prince recognized as well; behind them, Pharaoh Man was leaning against a wall, gazing upon the same. A blueprint that had never seen the light of day, a potential project doomed by fate, labeled "DLN011 Splash Woman." "Mass-produced _female _Robot Masters? Even from Doc Light himself, this is crazy."

"Crazy was creating Robot Masters in the first place," Countess reminded him. "Compared to that, this doesn't even come close. He couldn't have done it immediately, of course. Making one to establish the possibility raised enough alarm bells as it was. But decades later, once people had at least gotten used to Robot Masters, even if they never truly accepted them? I wouldn't be surprised if he was waiting all along for the world to be ready before he sneaked these into another set of eight." She glanced over her shoulder. "Hello, Prince."

"Evening," he replied, walking towards them. "They're genuine, doc. We heard it from Doctor Corbun himself. Most of Light's notes were either left in his house, or in the capsules, but these, our creator had a copy of. Light got in contact with him again, near the end, to see if the Robot Museums would help with the necessary public relations. They were planning on putting them out under Lighttech some time during the next year, two at the most. If Omega hadn't come along when he did, history might have been very different."

"That's something of an understatement," Pharaoh Man murmured, shaking his head. "The other seven are interesting, but hardly groundbreaking. This one, though... it might not seem all that special, considering how many female reploids there are, but back then... well, I can see why you never made any before now."

"It wasn't just this model," Prince explained, taking a seat next to Countess and Hazil. "We never created _any _new Robot Masters, before now. Collecting old ones was one thing, but if we'd been building more, Signas and X would never have agreed to that deal with us. We'd have been too much of a potential risk. Let alone what the other world leaders would have thought, once they found out. That was a thin line to walk as it was; there was no sense in making it any worse."

"That was then, though," Hazil pointed out. "And this is now. Our numbers are low enough already, thanks to that goddamn war. Don't think anybody would begrudge you doing something about that, and if they did, X'd shut 'em up fast."

"It's all right," Countess told him, glancing at Prince, who nodded slightly. "The fewer we have to fit on the rocket, the better. We've waited this long. A few more years won't kill us, and once we do arrive..."

"We'll be able to make a clean start of it," Prince continued where she'd trailed off. "A new world. A new beginning. For all of us. What better way to symbolize that than to do what we never could before?"

"It's what you were waiting for all along," Pharaoh Man guessed keenly. "Not the war. That was just something you had to get out of the way first. Even without such subjective matters as duty and responsibility, you knew that helping out there was the only way the humans and the reploids would let us leave the planet in peace. After the Repliforce incident, you knew that just making a break for it would never work."

"There were other reasons we needed X's approval as well," Prince replied, nodding. "But that was certainly a part of it, yes." He glanced at the projection again. "Fortunately, we got at least somewhat lucky when it came to the fallen. As much as I wish we could have saved more of them, it could have been worse. There are no extinct models. At least one of every design survived. We'll make more of them, as well. And once we really get going, I anticipate some of us coming up with new designs as well."

"Assuming we all get there in one piece," Hazil grunted. "I've been through a lot, over my life, but the astronaut gig's going to be a new one, even for me."

"We'll make it," Countess assured him. "Despite his personality, Earl is the best there is at what he does, and he's been working on this spacecraft for decades now. We'll take turns standing watch, while everybody else makes the trip in stasis, so we'll be able to correct any problems. It won't be much fun, but it's not like we're going to be getting too old for it." She glanced at him with a smile. "Despite how some people pretend otherwise."

"Har har." The old medic replied sourly.

"You'd better put us on the schedule for shifts as well, then," Pharaoh Man said. "We've stood with you for this long. We're not going to stop now."

"You're sure, then?" Prince asked carefully. "That you're coming with us, I mean."

"Positive," Hazil said flatly. "We talked it over, at length, and we all agreed. We're finished here. We've done our time with this world, with the Hunters, with the Maverick Uprisings. With all this bullshit. And we've given up more than we ever should have had to. No matter how many times we walked away, it kept dragging us back in. If we stick around, it'll happen again. We're calling it quits and getting out while the getting's good. Going with you guys is as good a solution as any, and better than most."

"The Scion's Zenith is with you," Pharaoh Man agreed. "Reploid and Robot Master alike. I think our creator would have wanted that, despite his disagreements with yours. We'll remember our past, and those we left behind... but starting over sounds pretty good right now."

"And ours would have been honored by that," Prince said, taking his turn to glance at Countess, and fighting not to react visibly when she smiled and nodded ever-so-slightly. Idly, he noted that he probably hadn't been particularly objective when speaking to Viscount and Margravine about their problem any more than they had. "All right. Welcome aboard, then. We'll certainly be able to use your help, once we arrive."

"Are you going to be making any more reploids?" Hazil asked curiously.  
>"Possibly," Countess replied. "That one, we're not entirely sure about yet. We'll decide once we arrive, I suppose. The first priority is the people. The Robot Masters. Giving them the chance they never had on Earth, not even in Mecha. To be able to grow, and evolve, and create a civilization of their own, without being forced to hide in the darkness. A world to call home."<p>

"A new beginning," Pharaoh Man murmured, smiling. "For all of us."

**July 30, 2195, Noon **

**Unnamed City (Central Eurasia) **

"How are we doing?" Arvis asked without looking up from his news holo; actual paper was out of the question these days, even after all the rebuilding they'd accomplished, but the boys who'd started up the new press had done the best they could, now that there was an actual economy running again. "We going to make it without asking X for a handout?"

"It's going to be close, but we should," Donia replied, looking over the files hovering in the air above her desk carefully. "Assuming we do well our first month."

"After how long it's been?" Arvis reminded her. "Don't think we've got anything to worry about on that score. Be more surprised if we _don't _have a full house every night the first week. Maybe two. Hell, could be even longer."

"Probably," she conceded. "I'm still getting the hang of this whole 'optimism' thing. Not really sure it's my style." She glanced up as, in the street outside, a hovertruck pulled up and honked. "_Now _what is it?"

"I'll go find out," he told her, setting the news aside and rising. Their incipient establishment had been mostly completed; all the construction was done, and it had power and water, though the furnishing was as of yet incomplete. Absently adjusting a stool by the bar as he passed by, he walked outside and found a familiar face climbing out of the truck waiting for him. "Hey, Jaken! Thought you said you wouldn't be here until..." He trailed off, putting a hand to his face. "Don't tell me. It _is _noon, ain't it."

"Been sleeping in again, Arvis?" his fellow ex-17th Unit member replied, smirking. "You're going soft, now that you're retired."

"Say that again, punk, and we'll see who's going soft, all right," Arvis threatened, smiling back as they walked around to the rear of the hovertruck and began unloading kegs and barrels. "You're lucky we need you if we're gonna make this work."

"You're a man of many talents, Arvis, but brewing ain't one of 'em." Jaken laughed. "I _remember _when you tried. Credit where it's due, though, leaving it out for the seagulls took care of that problem real fast."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Everybody's a comedian."

"How're things going with Donia?" Jaken asked as they continued their work. "She still sleeping?"

"As if." Arvis snorted. "She's working on the budget right now." He shook his head. "Honestly? I'm still surprised she went for me. But I sure as hell ain't complaining."

"Didn't think you would be." Jaken chuckled. "Let her know I said hi, huh? Probably shouldn't bother her, if she's busy with that shit."

"Don't know how she does it, myself," Arvis admitted. "I can't make heads or tails of it. Good thing I don't have to, long as she's around."

"Yeah." Jaken glanced away, smiling, as they carried more loads inside. "Asked Miriamelle out, the other day. She said sure."

"Hot damn." Arvis whistled, before grinning even wider and thumping him on the back. "Finally got up the nerve, huh? About time."

"Didn't seem like a good idea, when we were both with the Hunters," the smaller reploid explained. "Now that I'm mostly retired, though, I figured it was worth a shot. We'll both be here, opening night."

"We'll save a table for you," Arvis promised. "Least we can do, after all you've done for us. Never would have been able to open this place up without you."

"Hey, I'm making my money off of it, too," Jaken reminded him. "We all win." He closed the back of the hovertruck up again, and Arvis transferred the agreed amount of credits from one account to another, before they shook hands and the other reploid climbed back into the cab. "I'll see you around, Arvis."

"See you," Arvis replied as the truck headed off. Turning, he started to go back inside, only to pause as another vehicle came around the corner, this one a limousine. He waited patiently as it stopped in front of him; without even waiting for the door to open, he knew who was inside.

"Hello, Arvis," X greeted him, stepping out. "How are you doing?"

"S'awright," Arvis said, shaking his hand. "Nice ride."

"It wasn't my idea," the master of the city said flatly. "Simon insisted, and I usually listen to him." He glanced down the street, as the other residents began to look out, whispering to each other; the city wasn't developed enough for a full migration from Mecha yet, but it had started, and the surviving members of the Maverick Hunters had all been among the first to be placed. "Mind if we step inside? I'd rather not attract more attention than I already have, though that might be a lost cause already."

"Hey, it'll bring in the customers," Arvis joked as they walked in and sat down at the bar. "Like we didn't owe you enough as is."

"Officially, that's why I'm here," X confessed. "Everything I do's got to have a reason on the schedule, these days. I know I've asked this before, but if there's anything more I can do to help the two of you..." He trailed off.

"Naw." Arvis snorted. "Appreciate the thought, but we're doing all right. Like I said, you've done enough as it is."

"Have I?" X murmured, shaking his head, and there was something odd in his voice, though only for a moment. "I wonder." He looked up, then, and when he spoke next it was back to normal. "All right. I'll skip telling you not to worry about calling the Citadel if anything happens that the two of you can't handle, since if it does, I'm pretty sure it'll be noticeable enough that you won't _need _to call. Anything less, you can manage."

"We might be mostly retired now, chief, but we ain't planning on losing our touch," Arvis said, before lowering his voice. "Naw. We call up the Citadel, it won't be about _that _kind of trouble. Hoping it won't come to that, but if it does..." He shrugged.

"You'll let us know," X finished quietly. "Are you sure about this, Arvis? You and Donia don't have to do it if you don't want to. You've earned the right to get out clean."

"You kidding, chief?" Arvis made a rude noise. "That's one of the reasons we left in the first place. You were right. You're gonna need eyes and ears among the population, and everybody talks to the local bartender, no matter where he used to work. We don't mind letting you know what's going on if it's important."

"Just as long as that wasn't the only reason," X told him seriously.

"Nah." He leaned back, letting his shoulders rest against the bar. "You're setting up good, up there, but it ain't the same as being in the Hunters. There's a reason most of the ones who stuck around were the new kids. Us old warhorses spent too much time in the outfit. We stepped up when you asked for volunteers for a reason."

"I understand." X glanced at him, actually smiling faintly, though there was nothing of it in his eyes. "You, settling down to a quiet life with Donia. That's something I never would have seen coming before this all happened."

"Ain't gonna be _too _quiet, if I've got anything to say about it," Arvis joked, refraining from pointing out that that was the least of what had happened that they hadn't expected. "We ain't going to be all you've got going on in that field, are we?"

"No." X shook his head, as their smiles both vanished. "I'm still working out the details of how it's going to be set up, but the number I gave you will connect you directly to a specific division of the military I'll be setting up. One that specializes in such matters, among others."

"Black ops, huh?" Arvis muttered. "I gotta be honest with you, X. I wouldn't have seen you going for something like that, back in the day. Doesn't seem like your style."

"There's a lot I wouldn't have done back in the day," X reminded him tonelessly. "Things have changed, since then. _I've_ changed. And something like this is necessary, now."

"Necessary, huh?" Arvis replied, before slowly nodding. "All right, X. You say so, I'll buy it. Wouldn't off of anybody else, but you know better than I do."

"No, I don't," X admitted, staring at the floor. "Everybody always assumes I do. The fact is, though, even I'm not sure if I know what I'm doing." He glanced over. "Don't tell Simon I said that. He'd throttle me."

"Can do," Arvis agreed easily. "A bit extreme, but I see where he's coming from. Sorry, X, but it's the truth. After everything we've been through, the only thing that keeps a lot of folks going is thinking you've got it all figured out, and you'll take care of it. Wish it hadn't come to that, but here we are, and that's where we stand."

"You and me both," X said blankly, averting his eyes again. "That's part of it, really. I can't help but think that if this was the best I was able to do, I've already failed. No matter what I know would have happened otherwise... Wily's still alive. One day, I'll have to let him go free, unless he tries something, and he won't. Even if it was the only way, even if we all would have died with him if he had... all those deaths, for nothing."

"Don't ever say that again, X," Arvis warned him, quietly but firmly. "Or I'll knock your block off, no matter who you are these days. Don't disrespect everybody who gave their lives to make this happen. You want to know what you did? What the Hunters died for? Step outside and look around you. Look at all those people who can put that war behind them, who can come here and live out their lives in peace again. There's kids out there who never knew war, and never will, because of you. Because you saved us, X. Everybody in this city owes you their life, and their happiness."

"I know," X conceded. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Damn straight you shouldn't," Arvis agreed. "I know what you're thinking. That it's all gonna happen again, one day, and the next time, nobody's going to be making it out. And maybe that's so. But even if it ends, that's a long ways in the future, and nobody knows what's gonna happen until then. And while we're waiting, we'll have peace again. The ordinary people, the ones who suffered most, are going to have what they thought they never would again. If that's not good enough for you, I don't know what is."

"It's not about 'good enough,'" X replied, though he was clearly listening, his eyes more intent than Arvis had seen in a long time. "It's not that simple."

"You want simple?" Arvis shot back. "Here's something as simple as it gets. Nothing lasts forever, X. Nothing. That's just the way it goes. Eventually, everything ends. You can either try to fight the inevitable, or you can make the most of the time you've got. Me, I know what I'm doing. And the only reason I can is because I'm still alive. Because of you, X. You've got a plan to deal with that old bastard, even if he keeps his word and strolls on out of here one day. I know you do. Don't start doubting yourself now. Figure out what you need to do, and then do it. Whatever it is."

"Yeah." X exhaled, his eyes cold with resolve. With determination. "All right. I will." He stood, then, and they shook hands once more. "Donia's in the back, I take it?"

"That's right," she said, stepping into the room. "And you're lucky I was just listening. Arvis put that a _lot _more politely than I would." She raised an eyebrow. "How's Alia doing these days?"

"She seems fine, as far as I can tell," X said quietly. "She's training new Navigators today, or whatever it is they're calling them now. I'm not sure. We don't talk as much as we used to, these days."

"Ah," she murmured, exchanging a glance with Arvis that said a million words, none of them good. "Well, tell her to drop by sometime."

"I will," X assured her, before walking towards the door. "Good luck on opening night. I'll see you around."

"Shit," Donia muttered quietly, once he was gone. "I was afraid of that."

"Yeah," Arvis agreed, sighing, as the hoverlimo carrying the master of the city, the man who would always be his Captain, away. There was nothing more to say.

**December 31, 2198, 10:00 PM **

**Unnamed City (Central Eurasia) **

"Good evening, Auto," Alia greeted the giant Robot Master as she approached the maximum security area in the basements of the Citadel, an area that had been left out of the official blueprints; the three defensive levels she'd had to pass through first hadn't been quite as bad as those surrounding Wily himself at the top of the tower, but she'd never have been able to manage them before the war, or even during it. Her physical capabilities had changed since then, just like everything else. "Is he in there?"

"Yup," Auto grunted, arms folded, as he stood before the massive double doors. "He said not to let anybody else in, but if I know X, you're an exception. Hell, you're the only one who's ever allowed in there at all, aside from him and me." He stepped aside. "Go on in."

"Thank you." She started to walk past, then paused. "Have you seen the latest news?"

"Sure have," he conceded, raising one thick metal eyebrow. "What of it?"

"What do you think about it?" she pressed him.

"I don't," he answered bluntly. "I gave up having an opinion on what he does eleven years back. Nearly twelve, now. One more, and if your projections are right-which they're gonna be, since this is you we're talking about here-I'll be able to go back to sleep. Until then, I'm just here to do whatever I can to make this work. What I think about it doesn't matter."

"It might to X," she reminded him.

"Too bad." He looked away. "He made his call, and I've made mine. Sorry, Alia, but I can't just let this go like that."

"No," she admitted. "I suppose you wouldn't. Let's say... I understand."

"Do you?" He glanced back, scrutinizing her with an intelligence entirely at odds with his crude, mechanical features, his headlight eyes keen enough to remind her that of Thomas Light's sons, he had been the most brilliant of them all. After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Oh. I getcha. You've made up your mind, then."

"Yes." She closed her eyes briefly. "That's what I'm here to talk to him about. If you'll excuse me." Opening them again, she walked past him.

"Hey, Alia," he told her as she started to open the door, and she paused momentarily. "Do what feels right, for you, and don't look back. I might not agree with what X did, but I can't argue with why. Don't regret doing the same." All she could do was nod in response, before entering the room where the Dark Elf floated, inside a crystal cylinder, a cage-or perhaps a shield-of technology and energy that their finest scientists had spent a year creating.

"Alia?" X asked quietly, standing before it, staring up at the globe of violet light within.

"Hello, X," she replied, walking up.

"She really is something, you know," he murmured, still watching the Dark Elf float up and down without turning his gaze to her for even a moment. "We always thought that Zero was Doctor Wily's greatest creation, but we never really understood just how different the Virus was from anything else that ever existed in this world. Even now, he still doesn't fully understand her full potential, and neither do I. The power to alter reality... it's terrifying. Sometimes I feel like we should destroy her, even now... but I'm not sure we could, even if we wanted to. I don't know _how _we could."

"I can hear you, you know," the Dark Elf replied, her strange-though clearly female-voice echoing oddly inside her chamber. "And I am glad for that. I do not understand life, not as you do, and yet... I would not wish to lose it."

"Entirely understandable," Alia told her; normally, she was hesitant about addressing the being of pure energy directly, but her words had struck a chord. "Life is good. Not always, but more often than not. Enough to make it worth continuing."

"Indeed," X murmured, inclining his head slightly. "My apologies. While I have your attention, then, there is something I've been wondering about. Do you know why it is that the lesser Elves address you as 'Mother'?"

"I believe it is because I was the first of their kind, and because without me, none of them would exist," the Dark Elf explained. "Their minds are somewhat more simple than those of your kind, though not stupid. Despite their choice in terminology, they are not directly descended from me. As of yet, I have no offspring."

"Yet?" X asked, raising an eyebrow, as Alia watched silently.

"Yes," the Dark Elf confirmed, waiting a moment before continuing. "You should know this. I do not remember... what I once was, very clearly. However, some things, I know without remembering. Once, there was... a man. One who loved me, and who I loved, in return. We shared that, and something else, as well. Hatred, for you and for the one you call Zero. The man is dead, and yet the memory of our love and our hatred remains somewhere inside me. One day... I do not know how long... that seed will blossom, and beings born of our hatred for the two of you will come into existence."

"I see." X slowly nodded. "Children. On that day, you truly will be a mother. Will they be dangerous?"

"I do not know," she replied. "Perhaps, and yet, perhaps not. That hatred is a memory now. I bear neither of you any ill will. They may feel differently. I cannot say."

"Very well." He took a deep breath. "With that in mind, and other things as well, I have decided to change your name. From this day forward, you are no longer the Dark Elf. You are now to be known as the Mother Elf, instead. If any ask, that was always your name, before you were the Dark Elf."

"As you wish," she said. It might have been Alia's imagination, but at that moment, she actually seemed to glow a little brighter, the purple light slightly less dark.

"X," Alia murmured. "We should talk. Here, where nobody else can hear us. Well, nobody except..." she trailed off, glancing up at the Mother Elf.

"I will not listen," she assured them both. "That is courtesy. I have learned what courtesy is."

"Thank you," X told her solemnly, before turning his eyes to Alia, as dispassionate as he was with everything else these days. "You've seen the news, I take it. What did you think?"

"I think it's ridiculous," she said honestly, shaking her head; when she'd first read it, for a moment, she'd thought that somebody had sabotaged the report. "A traitor named 'Dr. Weil' who impersonated Dr. Wily in order to fool the world into believing his lies? Omega and Zero both active at the same time? This war being fought over the Cyber-Elves? A 'guilty circuit' inside your head that _accidentally _created the _Maverick Virus_ as a _byproduct?_ Just how _stupid _do you think people _are?_ Do you think _anybody _will actually _believe_ that?" At some point, her voice had started rising without her noticing.

"Not at first," X admitted. "Not all of it. But some of it will be plausible enough that they'll forget the contradictions, and over time, more and more of it will start to make sense. Memories fade, and children are being born who don't remember any of this. People will _want _to believe it, and once they forget enough that they can, they will. A century from now, the 'official story' will be accepted as truth. And what really happened will fade away into the past."

"But why?" she demanded. "Why lie to them about this in the first place? Why not tell them the truth instead?"

"Because it will be easier for them, this way," he said solemnly. "Ordinary civilians don't want to live in a world where mass-murdering psychopaths come back from the dead and create beings out of a Lovecraft novel to fight a war that began a hundred years ago. They'll sleep easier if they don't know what's going on, and their children will grow up happier. It's got its drawbacks, but the benefits outweigh them."

"And what happens when it starts up again, a hundred years from now?" she whispered quietly. "When Wily returns? You know he will. If you give him his life, and his freedom, like you said. One day, he'll be back."

"I will be taking... precautions, against that day," he told her, before sighing. "And yet, as long as he lives, you are right. He is predictable, in that regard. No matter what I do to delay him, eventually, it will happen."

"And when it does?" she asked, not budging.

"Then those who take up my sword will deal with him," he replied without hesitation. "That's what my family did. What the Maverick Hunters did. And what my successors will do. We know the truth, and fight the war, so that others do not have to. If I can calm the people's worries, and relieve them of their fears, even if I must lie in order to do so... so be it."

"Damn it, X," she snarled quietly, averting her eyes. "You never would have said that before."

"No, I wouldn't have," he agreed in the same tone. Neither of them spoke for several moments after that, until she looked back to him.

"You said 'your successors,'" she realized aloud. "What did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like." He raised one hand, palm up, and around it, glowing blue energy gathered. "I've questioned her extensively, about my condition. She cannot cure it, and she does not know what the end result of it will be, but she believes she can predict the day when it will reach its final stage, and my body will no longer be functional. Just like Lifesaver guessed. Wily will not return until after that happens. He fears me, but he also knows that one day, I will no longer be able to protect the city from him. When that day comes is when the world will begin to move once more, so to speak."

"I see," she said softly. "You've accepted it, then. Your own death."

"At this point, it's hard not to look forward to it," he admitted. "I'm tired, Alia. I'm so very tired of all of this. I understand why Auto wishes to sleep. I almost wish I could join him and King when they do. But that's not going to happen. I still have my duty, and my responsibility." He smiled then, slightly, and for a moment, he almost looked like he had before the war again. Almost. "And I still have you."

Alia couldn't respond to that. Not yet. No matter how she tried, the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she turned away, staring up at the Dark Elf-no, the _Mother _Elf-in silence.

"Alia?" X asked quietly. "I know that... eventually, I'm going to have to leave you. If there was any way to stop that, I would. Even if it would be a relief, by that point. You're more important to me than what I want. You always will be. I know I haven't shown it much, for a while now, but you are."

"You've begun dividing our forces," she said calmly, keeping her face and her tone as flat and emotionless as his; she'd had a great deal of practice at it over the last decade. "Forming separate divisions, with different specialties."

"That's correct," he replied, apparently unconcerned by her abrupt change of subject. "I won't be going with thirty Units this time, though. We'll be keeping things simpler. I'm thinking four will be good. The army, the navy, the air force, and the intelligence division... at least, that's what we'll call it. Their actual duties will be more... variable."

"Including the removal of certain undesirables from the population, if necessary?" she inquired, her tone curious rather than condemnatory.

"If they're agents of Wily?" he retorted without heat. "Or of those like him, and Sigma, who would commit similar atrocities? In a heartbeat. I'm not going to create a police state, and I'm not going to order the deaths of anybody just bcause I don't like them. But Wily managed to infiltrate the Hunters once before, and we never knew until the day of reckoning. That's not going to happen again. Not on my watch. Those will be the people who make sure it doesn't."

"Who's going to lead them?" she asked after a moment. "Our veterans? You haven't placed Ganesheriff in any of the four."

"No, I haven't." He shook his head. "I'm still considering options for the leaders of the four divisions. There are a few ideas I have, and I'm not sure which to go with yet, for several reasons." He glanced away for a moment, but before she could inquire further, he continued. "As for Ganesheriff, he's going to be working with the staff, directly under you. He's the only surviving Unit Captain aside from me. We'll be able to trust him with anything and everything. I'm not sure what his official title will be yet, or yours, for that matter, but that's what it'll come down to. We'll figure it out sooner or later."

"X," she murmured, before jerking her eyes away and closing them, still unable to say it.

"Alia?" he asked softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What is it? Talk to me."

"We'll be finished building the city, in a year," she said after a moment, opening her eyes but refusing to look at him; she wouldn't be able to bear seeing the calm calculation with which he continually regarded the world, after those words. "We'll be able to finish the migration, and abandon Mecha."

"Yes," he replied after a moment. "I've talked it over with King and Prince. We're going to be using the location for a new treeborg forest, just like the Devil's Sea and Maverick City. They won't need it any more; their departure's scheduled for the same day. I'll probably deal with Wily then, too. A new century is a good time for all of that. We might as well get it all done on the same day. I imagine King and Auto will also depart."

"That makes sense." She took a deep breath, and forced herself to speak at last. "X... I'll be leaving, as well."

For a moment, she thought she hadn't heard him. Before she looked, however, she heard him walk away; glancing over her shoulder, she saw him staring at a wall, his back to her. She waited, until he spoke again, dispassionate and toneless.

"Where will you go?"

"Into the wasteland," she told him. "With your permission, I'll bring a vehicle capable of enduring it, and enough supplies to survive indefinitely. We've discovered by now that there are survivors, out there, outside of the cities. Mostly uninfected Mavericks, but some of them are simply people who want to live in solitude. I'll be able to work with the latter... and I'll deal with the former. Killing doesn't bother me any more. Not after Tokyo." By now, she was as good with her magrifle as any Hunter alive, past or present. "I'm sorry, X. It looks like I'm the one who's going to break our promise."

"One promise," he corrected her quietly. "There's still the other one. The first promise we made, long before."

"I know," she agreed solemnly. "I'll keep aware of events back here. And if it becomes necessary... that promise, I'll keep." He didn't reply to that, and she remained silent as well.

"You were all I had left," he whispered in the dark, with only her to hear. "Everything else is gone. What wasn't taken from me, I abandoned myself. Everything but you. Now... there will be nothing. No reason for me to live, except for the fact that I must, for as long as I can. I was going to ask you to-" He cut off sharply, and fell silent. She didn't know how to what to say, and before she could figure it out, he continued, his voice as empty as always. "Will you tell me why, at least?" It was that question, simple as it was, that finally broke her facade, and it took her a moment to reply.

"I tried, X," she said, one word at a time, slowed by the tears beginning to fall despite her best efforts. "I've been trying for eleven years now, ever since you came back from the Devil's Sea. I really have been. But I can't do this forever. Not for another hundred years. I just can't. Not like this." She took a breath before continuing, trying and failing to keep her voice even. "I still love you, X. I always will, even if... even if I have to fulfill our first promise. But you've changed too much. You've grown cold, X. Even to me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"A lot of people are sorry," he replied eventually. "About a lot of things. They've told me so, many times. But sorry doesn't change anything. For any of us. I love you, too, Alia. And I always will. Do what you have to. It seems like that's all that any of us can do, these days. And perhaps, some day, when all of this is over... when I can finally rest... maybe we can find each other again, where the grass is greener, and give it another try."

"I'm sorry, X," she repeated herself, knowing that she was, and not caring. "I'm so sorry." He said nothing more, and eventually, she left. Auto didn't say a word as she walked past, pretending not to notice her drying her tears as she did. She didn't encounter anybody else as she walked up to the quarters that she and X shared, and began removing her possessions, to bring to another room nearby.

Only once she was done did she stare out the window, over the city of the future, under the night sky. And no more tears fell, nor would they, ever again, as long as she lived.

**Time Unknown  
>Place Unseen <strong>

He stood in light.

The Gray House on the far side of the edge, where the walkers between the worlds made their home, had many rooms inside the dark halls within. Some were similar to those found in any such organization in the living world, a bureaucratic necessity that prevailed even here, but others held functions that were different from anything a living mortal could ever completely comprehend in their entirety. It was in one such room that the first robotic reaper, Doc Man, stood now, contemplating what had gone before and what was yet to come.

It was a good room for such thoughts, for they were related to its purpose. Though it seemed to be empty of anything but white light emanating from every surface, that was a lie. The eyes of the gray walkers, specially adapted to their new purpose, could see what hovered in the air inside this particular chamber. The threads of time, stretching and splitting endlessly, more complex than the most intricate spiderweb imaginable. They stretched into infinity around him, an eternity of possibilities, until he spoke at last.

"Show me a past," he commanded the room. "A past in which Doctor Light won the National Science Contest of 2039, rather than Doctor Wily." The threads of time obliged, one in particular growing larger and more detailed before his eyes, until he could see into it, into a world in which he had never existed. A world in which sentient robots had never been invented, for humanity's technology had developed along different lines entirely, lines of communication and understanding, until society revolved around the internet and the humanoid programs who functioned as the personas of its users.

He watched that world, and marveled at how different it was from his own. He saw the children of Light and Wily, human children rather than robotic, and he saw how the latter descended into madness of his own volition rather than due to scientific tragedy, only to be stopped by the grandchildren of the former. He watched as, time after time, the world was endangered and saved in rapid succession. Until finally, Wily and those like him were stopped at last, and both human and program-for they had begun to develop sentience, just like their robotic counterparts-proceeded towards a bright future.

"Show me a past," he repeated once he had seen enough, and the first timeline faded away as another approached. "A past in which Bass never stole the blueprints for Mega Man X from the house of Light in 2080." The new timeline displayed itself as the previous one had, and he observed it with just as much careful scrutiny. Without that theft, which had doomed their generation the moment it had occurred, the events of his time played out very differently. Unaware of the imminent creation of reploids, Dr. Wily simply continued his Robot Rebellions, with no thought for what would come next.

The Eighth and the Ninth carried themselves out with only subtle alterations; it was only after that things truly changed. A new series of Lighttech model Robot Masters included, for the first time, _mass-produced _females of the species, leading the dying and defunct United Nations Security Council to restrict robot rights more than ever before and paving the way for a Tenth Robot Rebellion. More followed, until finally, age and senility did what Mega Man never had. In the end, Dr. Wily died quietly, of natural causes, and the world was at peace.

Doc Man watched as his brothers, Bass and King, abandoned their father's ways entirely in the end, becoming friends of the Lights. As Blues Light, spurred by the pleas of Kalinka Cossack, finally allowed his father to operate on him and repair an energy glitch that would have eventually killed him, as well as modifying him to resemble his true age. Eventually, the old doctor died as well, leaving his final creation in the hands of his children. And one day, Mega Man X awakened, surrounded by loving family, in a world where humans and Robot Masters lived in peace. A world without Zero Omega.

"Show me a present," Doc Man said then. "A present in which Repliforce never went renegade." He watched that as well, as greater unity between them and the Maverick Hunters changed the course of history. A revolutionary new idea, a joint Unit of outcasts and misfists, bridged the gap between the two forces, changing events both small and great.

Sometimes, all it took to change everything was one small difference, in the right place at the right time. So it was with the six elite-but-flawed Hunters who fought conflicts that had never occurred without them, leading to greater trust and success for both the Hunters and Repliforce. Though Sky Lagoon still fell, Sigma's attempts at framing the latter were unsuccessful, and the Fourth Maverick Uprising was defied, leading to a brighter, better tomorrow. In time, the threat of the Mavericks was ended, and Wily never emerged from the darkness, conceding defeat.

"Show me a present," he told the room once more when he was done. "A present in which Zero survived the fall of Eurasia." Again the timelines changed places, and again he observed the new one before him, as Sigma's rampages continued, and Dr. Wily entered the stage early in secret only to return to his solitude. More Maverick Uprisings occurred, rather than the time-filling of his own present before the war, and the Maverick Hunters continued to fight them, as they always had. Returning to them midway through the next, Zero rejoined them, and he and X stood together once more.

In time, a third warrior of phenomenal skill was added to their forces, standing with X and Zero as an equal, just as the ex-Hunters Bastion and Wycost had during earlier Uprisings. Unlike them, he remained until the last Maverick Uprising of all, when a twisted genius took control of both Sigma and the Maverick Virus, leaving both vulnerable at last. With the deaths of all three, the reploids were finally at peace, and when Wily finally emerged to drown the world in blood, the fight was much more even. In the end, even he was slain, and the world continued as it had before, onwards in time.

"Show me a future," he ordered eventually. "A future in which Dr. Wily survives the end of the next age." He was treading dangerous ground now, but he had not been chosen for fear of such things, and so he watched in silence as events yet to come revealed themselves to him. As the age of Neo Arcadia, and those who lived both within and alongside of it, progressed through war and death and conflict once Zero returned to the world. As the mad malice of Dr. Wily drove humanity and reploidkind both further towards extinction, and their planet towards destruction.

In the end, Zero and Wily died together as another satellite fell from orbit, though its impact was prevented by the former's sacrifice. And yet, their souls and minds lived on in forms created by study and application of the strange energies from beyond the stars, as did that of X, and those of his children yet to be born. Centuries later, a new age dawned, one of cyborgs, of reploids and humans combined so that little remained to distinguish the two. And the cycle continued, on an Earth repaired and restored to life.

"Show me a future," he repeated one final time. "A future in which he does not." He watched that timeline as well, similar to the previous one for most of the next age, only diverging when Zero and his original body-now Omega's alone-clashed for the final time. Events proceeded from there, until the final cataclysm, where all life on Earth was finally extinguished. And yet, even then, the future continued, until that fate was reversed along with extinction itself. And he smiled, as the world was reborn, and the people who lived upon it as well, free of his father at last.

Turning, he left the room behind, and walked through the dark halls of the Gray House until he emerged into white mists under a red sky. Continuing past the gates, he approached the edge, and stood there for some time, gazing out over the planet on which he had been created. The glow of life that had once lit it so brightly had faded now, dwindling to a dismal glimmer, but it still existed. _Life _still existed, and as long as there was light, there was hope. For all of them.

"How is he?" he asked at last, turning his head to the old man who crouched at the edge nearby. Though his clothes were still ragged, his eyes were keen now, the stupor of self-loathing that had kept him from thinking clearly since his arrival gone. Regret still showed on every line of his face, but it no longer consumed his every moment, as it had before.

"He still hasn't woken up," the spirit of all that had been good in Doctor Wily, everything human in him that had been slowly erased by his madness over the years before his first death, replied quietly. Before him, lying on the edge, was the motionless form of Zero Omega, eyes shut and hands clasped over his chest. "Is he going to?"

"If he hasn't by now?" Doc Man replied, glancing down at his fallen brother. "Probably not. I'm guessing it's got something to do with what's happening to him right now. What _will _happen to him, before he returns for the final time. His form will start to change, soon, to reflect his new body. Don't try to stop it, or interfere with it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the Doctor said solemnly. "For anything. Will it work? Will this finally give him what he could never have before? A chance at happiness? A life free of our family's curse?"

"It will," Doc Man assured him. "He will have his chance. Whether he takes it or not depends on his choices, and the choices of those who will join him in the next age. But in at least one future, and many more as well... yes."

"Very well," the fallen doctor confirmed. "Until that day comes, until he returns to the world we have left behind... I will continue to watch over him. It may be too late to be a good father to him, but I will do what I can."

"It's not," Doc Man said quietly. "It's never too late to atone. Not if you truly wish to." They stood there in silence for some time, father and son, contemplating what they had seen in the world below, and what had resulted.

"So much suffering, because of one scientific accident," Doctor Wily whispered eventually. "So much sorrow. All because of me."

"No," Doc Man said flatly, firmly. "Because of _him_. You are _not _him, father, not any more. Trust an expert on the matter."

"How can you be sure?" Wily asked, after remaining silent for some time. "Once, we were the same soul. When I died, he remained, an echo of the madness that I was finally freed from. I have been unable to go on, because of his continued existence. But in time, all things end, and eventually, he too will die. What will happen to me, when that happens? Will we reunite, and become one, once more?" He shuddered in horror. "Will I be _him _again?"

"It is a possibility," Doc Man admitted. "Something like this is unprecedented. It has never happened before, and so, even we cannot say for sure what will happen. Perhaps you will, and perhaps not. We can see the future of Earth, but not of this place. There's a certain logic to that, I suppose."

"Is there no other way?" the Doctor pleaded. "Can it not be avoided?"

"Perhaps," Doc Man told him after a moment. "The possibility is contingent upon you remaining here when he arrives at last. If you are not..." He left it hanging.

"But how?" Wily glanced at him, his gaze sharp. "Where else is there for me to go, but here?"

"Back," Doc Man said simply. "Reincarnation. You're not supposed to be allowed to do that, of course, but standards have been slipping all over the place. If somebody screwed up, and you were let out before his arrival... well, there'd be a lot of shouting, but it'd be too late to stop it."

"Before I pay for my sins?" Wily murmured. "I have no desire to escape my penitence."

"Well, see, if you did, that would leave _him_ holding the bag," Doc Man pointed out, skeletal grin wide and sharp. "Which would be a terrible pity, of course."

"Not yet," Doctor Wily said after a moment's thought. "Not until it ends. Until I have seen it end with my own eyes. When he is on his way here, when it will all be over... then yes. To be reborn in the new world that will follow Neo Arcadia, a world of peace... it is more than I deserve. I can only hope that it will be a simple life. One where I can simply be an ordinary man, with an ordinary life."

"I'll see what I can do," Doc Man promised. "It _will _end, father. In time, everything ends." He spared a glance for another man, far away, a bald reploid armored all in green who stood some distance away, waiting for the day when his beloved would join him. "Until then... trust in Mega Man X, and Zero Omega, as I do, even now. Between the two of them, they will finish this yet." And then he turned, and walked away, as his father turned his gaze back to his sleeping brother, and whispered words long forgotten.

"Carry on, my wayward son... there'll be peace when you are done..."

**January 1, 2200, Noon **

**Neo Arcadia **

"X, are you in there? It's almost time."

"Come in," Mega Man X said quietly, without turning away from the tabletop terminal, or the projector in the center, glowing display hovering in the air above and before him. He continued to work as Simon King slowly approached, aided by a cane now. His friend had always looked older than he was, and now was no exception; in his eighties, he was bald and frail, seemingly holding on to life by determination alone.

"What on earth?" the former Public Relations Officer of the MHHQ asked softly, staring at the projection above the table. Four sets of reploid schematics, all similar to each other yet individually distinct, humanoid and clad in the latest designs of armor they'd managed to create, much more lightweight than the previous standard while still just as durable. "X, what is this?"

"This, old friend, is the future," the master of the city told him, still staring up at them. "These are my successors. Those who will protect the world when I am gone."

"You intend to build them yourself, and raise them as such?" Simon whispered, his eyes widening in realization. "I see. As your father, before you."

"I've tried to follow in his footsteps in every other way, by now," X explained. "Some, more successfully than others. It seemed appropriate, especially considering that the day will come when I can no longer protect this city." He raised a hand, gesturing at one. "He will be the first. The eldest, and the one who will be trusted with tasks that I find distasteful. With activities I would prefer not to personally supervise. A role easily abused, which is why he will be the most devoted and selfless of them all. The one who will do what is necessary for the better good, no matter what it entails."

"The Za'nei division," Simon murmured. "You intend for him to lead it. Then these other three..."

"One for each," X confirmed, moving on to the only female of the four. "She will have mastery of the oceans that rise further every year, and be charged with guarding our city from them. So long as the Meikai Division remains vigilant, this city will never fear a repetition of the fate that befell New Tokyo." He looked at the next. "Similarly, he will lead the Jin'en Division, our ground forces, and watch over the wasteland. Both shall be warriors before all else, who lead from the front and seek out the enemy eagerly. By doing so, they will gain the absolute loyalty of their soldiers, and their respect."

"And this one?" Simon asked, glancing at the fourth.

"The youngest," X identified him. "The last I shall build. He will command our air force, the Rekku Division. More than the others, he will be a man of this age, rather than the last. Brave and bold, a hero beloved by the people for his devotion to them, and to this city we have built from ashes. When I am gone, he will be my heir, as ruler of the world."

"Four, then?" Simon asked. "Forgive me, but... from what I know of your family, would not five be customary?"

"Five?" X said quietly, looking down at last, to where a holocube sat on the table before him. Four sides remained empty, at the moment, no images loaded into them; only the top held one, of the woman he still loved, from happier times. For a moment, he almost activated it, but then he pulled his hand away. "Once, I considered the possibility. When I thought that..." He trailed off, as an image flashed through his mind, of one who had never existed and never would. One with her father's eyes, and her mother's smile, in black and pink and long golden hair. "But that was then, and this is now."

"Very well," Simon conceded respectfully after a moment. "As I was saying, though, it's time, X. Everybody's waiting."

"All right." Shutting down the projector, X turned away, and the two old friends began walking towards the nearest elevator. "While we're walking, brief me on today's news. Has anything of importance happened so far?"

"We have word from the R&D department," Simon reported. "Testing of the new subspace warp technology will proceed on schedule later this week."

"Subspace," X repeated quietly, recalling the discussions he'd had with Doctor Wily involving the technology he'd used to resuscitate his Disciples again and again, recalling their minds from their bodies no matter their location. "A space outside of reality... or rather, within it, invisible and intangible. It's still hard to believe, but we've been able to transfer electronic data through it, so long as there's a transmitter at the destination to aim for. It's more limited than previous warp technology, but it should work, with time and effort."

"They've named the devices 'Transport Servers,'" Simon added. "'Trans Servers' for short. Once work on them is completed, all we'll need to do is set them up at strategic points wherever necessary around the world. On a similar note, the Cyber-Elf research department continues to report success with the process used to create more, though they still haven't come to an agreement on whether they're sentient or not. Their general personalities are making it somewhat difficult to accurately gauge their intelligence."

"Ah." X nodded; a joke came to mind, but he left it unsaid. "Have they managed to solve the auto-termination problem?" Their studies of the energy beings over the past decade had, among other things, shown that the lesser Elves had extremely limited access to their creator's reality warping powers, each in an individual and highly specific manner. Unfortunately, this came at a cost, as each could only use their power once before perishing as a direct result.

"No," Simon admitted, shaking his head. "It seems that may be unavoidable, part of their very nature. They are, after all, only echoes of the original. The researchers insist that studying her directly is the only way they might be able to come up with a solution."

"Then we'll just have to live with the problem," X said flatly as they entered the elevator. "Nobody but me will have access to her, and that's final. She's too dangerous, even now."

"I told them you'd say that," Simon murmured, smiling slightly. "Our treeborg specialists report that their work in the Devil's Sea and Maverick City-or rather, where they used to be-is proceeding as planned. It will take time, of course, but eventually, both should become completely overgrown."

"The heavier, the better," X told him. "I want both of those places to vanish beneath the forests forever. We'll start doing the same with Mecha, now that it's been deserted; it might not be as distasteful a remnant as those, but Prince agrees with me that the land should be put to good use. There aren't many places left like it that can support life any more. We'll need to take full advantage of everything we can."

"Very good." Simon nodded. "The cloning department claims they're making progress with Wily's... sorry, _Weil's_ notes on artificial humans. They foresee results within the next decade, at most." He glanced over, and when X remained silent, continued speaking. "Let's see, what else... ah, yes. The staff would like to schedule a test run of the Citadel's Defense Mode, whenever it would be convenient, to ensure that everything works as designed."

"I suppose we'd better," X conceded calmly. The massive building at the heart of the city was bleak and functional, for the most part, a skyscraper built to house the military forming the backbone of the new order and the staff that kept it running. When a certain command was entered from the operations center at the top floor, however, the entire structure would transform into a fortress similar to Wily's and Sigma's, as impregnable as X had been able to make it. "If there are any flaws, we'll want to spot them now, before anything ever happens that requires us to use it."

"Do you think it will?" Simon asked quietly. "Will Wily attack this city one day?"

"If I handle him right?" X slowly shook his head. "No. When he returns, it will likely be through more subtle means, next time. But there are other threats. Natural Mavericks, uninfected, out in the wastelands. We might not know of any groups that are currently strong enough to attack the city directly, but better safe than sorry." The elevator opened, and they both walked out into the lobby on the ground floor of the Citadel.

"Master X!" a now-familiar voice greeted him, and they both glanced over at Blazin' Flizard, smiling cheerfully. "Good morning!"

"Has your day gone well?" Childre Inarabitta asked eagerly. Both were clad in the uniform of the Citadel's staff, rather than the uniforms of the Faithful, now, and their faces were open and friendly, no trace of the madness of their past remaining.

"As well as ever," X replied honestly, as Simon frowned. "I'll be out shortly."

"We'll go join the others, then," Flizard replied, as they turned to walk outside.

"Everybody's been looking forward to today," Inarabitta added. "Thank you again, for everything, Master X."

"They still give me the creeps," Simon muttered under his breath as the two former Disciples walked out the front door.

"I know," X conceded. "But we had to make the offer to all of them, regardless of rank." In the end, the surviving members of the Faithful had been given their choice between a painless death and a total memory wipe, followed by a new life among the citizens, as he'd planned. Most of them had chosen the latter, including all eight Disciples. Without their uniforms, they were indistinguishable from any other reploid, and the government had slowly blended them in with the population anonymously to avoid reprisals from those who still would not forgive who they once had been.

"Just as long as they don't hold rank or anything, I suppose," the old man said, shaking his head. "Well, then. Shall we?"

"I suppose so." Closing his eyes, X raised his hands to either side of his head and removed his helmet with a click, revealing hair that was now completely white, a deliberate choice on his part. "All right. I'm ready." Together, the two old friends walked outside, where thousands of people were gathered in the square before the Citadel. He waited as Simon descended the stairs to take his own seat among the crowd before speaking again, his voice carried clearly all the way to the back by the same recorders that were transmitting his image to every projector in the city.

"Welcome, everybody," he said. "This is an important day, the first day of a new millennium, and a new beginning, for all of us. We have gathered here today for many reasons, all of them highly significant, the last most of all. Before that, however, there are other matters which must be addressed, and they must be done so in the eyes of the public where all can see. Let us begin with those without who none of this would be possible. Will the leaders of Mecha please approach?" The crowd parted, and the eight reploids built by Corbun walked forward, the Scion's Zenith with them.

"We're ready to go, X," Prince told him solemnly. "All that we need now is your approval."

"You have it," X replied. "Go forth, all of you, into the stars. Find your world, and live freely there, as you never could here. I have every confidence in you, you most of all, Prince. King chose well when he named you as his successor. Take good care of your people."

"Thank you, X." Prince nodded respectfully. "I will."

"Countess," he continued. "Stand with him, and help him with what he can not do himself. No leader is perfect, myself included, and you have always been there for him, and King before him. I have faith that you will continue to do so."

"I won't disappoint you," she promised, glancing at Prince, her eyes a mystery.

"Duke," X said, looking at the one with whom he was most familiar personally, from his days as Mecha's official liaison to the MHHQ. "I suppose this is redundant, at this point, but it was never said before. I release you from your duties to us. Go freely, and continue your work."  
>"Formalities are important, on occasion," Duke murmured, twitching his mustache. "Thank you, X. It's been an honor."<p>

"For us as well," X agreed. "Marquis. Your people will have need of your talents, when you arrive. I have every confidence in you."

"I should certainly hope so," the younger reploid said, sniffing, though he was smiling. "I suppose the sentiment is returned."

"Thank you," he replied politely, moving on. "Baron. Try not to commit any more crimes."

"I'll do my best," he promised, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"Viscount, Margravine," he addressed the two, looking from one to the other. "That goes double for you. Keep the rest of them on their toes, all the same."

"Now that, we can do," Viscount assured him, smirking.

"Always," Margravine agreed. "And we see what you did there."

"Earl," he addressed the last of the eight, unsure exactly what to say to him. After a moment's thought, the answer came to him. "Try not to screw this one up."

"Ha!" Earl chuckled, his customary scowl changing to a grin; below, in the crowd, Simon looked like he was about to start foaming at the mouth. "And here I thought that stick was never coming out. Hell, I was wrong. Right back atcha."

"Bastion," X said, moving on. "It was good having you along for one last run. You too, Bristol."

"I was a Hunter, before the Zenith," Bastion said solemnly. "I'll always remember that."

"We both will," Bristol agreed. "Good luck, X."

"And you'll be remembered," X promised. "As will you, Wycost. I never knew just how much the Hunters lost when you left us, until this war. Willow, I never knew you much, but I wish I could have."

"Could have, should have, would have," Wycost shot back bluntly. "Don't get bogged down in the past, X. Focus on the future."

"Aye." Willow nodded. "The Hunters were a good outfit. Wasn't all bad, fighting with 'em."

"Allegro, Horn," X continued. "You've both got a lot of work ahead of you. Have fun with it."

"We try to," the elderly scientist told him. "It's not that hard, if you know how."

"When we're not blowing ourselves up, anyways," Allegro cracked.

"Phare," X said, hesitating at last as he glanced from one of the Cossack models to the next. "Guys. I'll miss you."

"The feeling's mutual," Pharaoh Man admitted. "But our place is with our people."

"Go with them, then," X replied, nodding. "With my blessing." Only then did he turn to the last of them, the one he'd known the longest, the only one from the early days of the age of reploids aside from him who remained. "Hazil. We've been through a lot, haven't we?"

"Understatement," the old doctor grunted, as grumpy as ever. "Good luck, X. You're gonna need it." Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. "We've got it onboard, in a shuttle. We'll dump the whole thing once we break orbit, and not a moment too soon. That giant armor's starting to grow back again, hell if I know how. Especially considering there's no goddamn control chip in it now. You're sure you don't want to destroy it?"

"I am," X told him firmly. "That demon will be his to slay, in the end."

"None of my business, I guess," Hazil replied, shrugging. "I'm out of it. We all are. It's up to you, now. See you, X." They shook hands, then, and all the others moved forward to do the same, before they turned and walked away through the crowd. The other Robot Masters were already on board the ship Earl had built, sleeping in stasis until the day of their arrival on their new world.

"Next, bring forth Doctor Weil," X said once they were gone, and an angry muttering filled the air from the crowd as two armed guards carried the prisoner forward, surrounded by a squad of the Pantheon. He was different, now, from how he had been before, his entire body sealed in a shell of metal with no arms or legs, hovering in the air. Only his head was visible, within a cone of transparent orange plasteel, filled with the same liquid that he had lived within for a century as he had built his body beneath the Devil's Sea. He glared furiously as X continued to speak.

"You have committed more crimes than any who have ever lived, Doctor. However, I am a man of my word, and as you have kept your end of our bargain, so shall I uphold mine. Your life is yours, to do with what you will, so long as it is not here. I am aware of the harshness of the wasteland, and so I have ensured that you will be able to survive it. The suit you wear will protect you, and keep you alive, since it is unlikely you will be able to find supplies reliably. Of course, in order to do so, it was necessary to integrate it directly into your body. Do not attempt to remove it, or you will perish."

"I am overwhelmed by your generosity," Wily drawled sarcastically. "My thanks, Master X."

"Go from this place, and never return," X told him, narrowing his eyes. "Know this, doctor. I will always be watching you. If you come within a mile of this city, or take any hostile action against it whatsoever, so long as I live, then I will kill you."

"As you command," Wily murmured, and though his tone was defiant, his eyes showed fear.

"Take him outside of the city wall, and leave him there," X told the guards, and they nodded before hauling him away. "Very well. Let Auto Light and Rex Rossum approach." They had both held seats in the front row, next to Simon; standing, they walked forward, King dressed like a human in suit and hat from a century ago. "You have both been of great service to us, and you have my thanks. If you wish to leave us as well, then do so, with my blessing."

"Nice touch with the can," Auto commented quietly. "That'll keep him out of trouble for a while. You know it won't last, though. Eventually, he'll find somebody willing to build him some hands, and smart enough to put 'em in without blowing him up. He'll be able to continue his own work."

"I know," X whispered back. "But even then, he won't cause trouble until I'm dead. He knows better. By then, well... that's up to Zero."

"The operation was successful, then?" King asked, in the same low tone.

"Completely," X assured him. "His new body's not completely identical, since I wanted to avoid that issue, but it's still him. I found what was left of where he was created-somebody really did a number on the place-and left him there. When the time comes, the right person will awaken him."

"And his original body?" the elder son of Wily murmured.

"It's being taken care of," X said, glancing skyward, and they both did the same before nodding.

"All right," Auto grunted. "We'll see what happens when we wake up again, then. I can't say I agree with what you've done, X, but all the same... I love you, little bro." They embraced, then, one final time. "Looks like you'll be seeing dad and the rest before I do. Tell 'em I said hi."

"I will," X promised, shaking King's hand before they turned and walked back to their seats. For a moment, his gaze lingered on one more watcher in the crowd, wrapped all in grey to protect her from the sand and wind awaiting her, magrifle across her back. He almost called her up, but managed to stop himself; instead, he regarded the people he had given up everything to save. The men and women, the old and the young, human and reploid standing together, in a place where they could live in peace.

"This is a new beginning, for all of us," he said to them, idly trying to remember when he'd stopped hating public speaking. "After thirteen years of hardship following the war that ended the world, we finally stand proud in this city we have built out of the wasteland, against all odds, to defy death. Here, we will live, and remember those who were not so fortunate. The war is over. The past is behind us. Here and now, we are the future. Welcome, all, to our new home. Welcome to Neo Arcadia."

The applause was overwhelming, and he smiled and nodded, as the crowd gradually dispersed. When he looked again, King and Auto were gone, as was Alia. Eventually, everybody else left as well, all except for Simon King, who remained in his seat with his eyes closed and a smile upon his face.

"Simon?" X asked quietly, descending the steps and approaching him, only to stop. "Oh."

"I didn't want to interrupt," Maha Ganesheriff, former Captain of the 30th Unit, the only one to survive the war aside from X himself, explained as he approached from behind; the massive elephantine reploid had been sitting next to him. "He just sighed, and then he was gone. I'm sorry, X."

"It's all right," X murmured, taking his old friend's hand in his and remembering seeing him as an infant for the first time, in his father's arms. "He was very tired. I think he wanted to watch this happen, before he left." After a moment, he let go and turned away. "You'll be taking over his position, as my second-in-command and chief of the Citadel's staff. I'll trust you to arrange his funeral."

"I'll see to it," Ganesheriff promised. When X didn't reply, he spoke again. "Are you all right, X?"

"It's grown cold," the youngest son of Light whispered, as the wind blew around him, staring up into the sky and watching the ship from Mecha rise, towards the stars.

And then he turned, and walked away into the future, alone.


	19. Epilogue: Legacy & Author's Note

_**Epilogue: Legacy **_

**A Long Time  
>A Galaxy Far, Far Away <strong>

No matter what planet you stood on, and what sky you looked up at, in what galaxy... the universe was a beautiful place.

Duo had stopped keeping track of how long he had stood there, motionless, watching the stars overhead. Soon enough, it would no loner be relevant, to him or to anybody else. He had already made his final recording, and had copied his logs into a recorder he had created, not of metal but of crystal and lightning and bright blue energy, technology thousands of years beyond the current capabilities of anybody on Earth. It rested on the ground before him now, a simple, transparent blue box that would activate at the touch of any living being, should any ever find this place.

It was with that in mind that he meditated, eyes locked upon the sky above, on his final task before leaving the universe behind. A task not of necessity, but of gratitude, and regret. One last debt to be paid to those he had once called friend, and those who had succeeded them. Even now, as he considered his own situation, at the same time he watched the current activities on the nearly dead planet of sand and wind, in the city that was the final bastion of their entire civilization. As Mega Man X bid farewell to his own past, and welcomed the future with open arms.

What was it like, to be the best in the world at that which you hated more than anything else, he wondered. To voluntarily sacrifice the rest of your life, without even knowing how long that would last, to unforgiving duty without even the slightest hope of release. To face that torment alone, all those who he had cared for dead or gone forever. A life without life, without joy or affection or leisure, or anything else that made it worth living at all. With nothing but what must be done, for the people of the world. Alone. Broken. Empty.

Cold.

In time, it would grow less so, Duo saw. Others would be created who would share his duty and show him love once more. His burden would be eased with fatherhood, but it would never truly vanish, until the day when his spirit and his body separated, and he left the city known as Neo Arcadia. Even then, his time on Earth would not end. Only when he had properly prepared his true successor-as savior, rather than ruler, of the world-would he be allowed to rest, content that his work was done. That his plan for the future would succeed, and end a war of centuries.

Duo had not been present at the beginning of that war, and yet, he had witnessed it all the same, with the powers at his command. Just as he had looked into the future, he had done so with the past as well, watching all the myriad ways in which the world had changed because of the actions and decisions of a handful of men and women. To him, there was no longer any real distinction between organic life and synthetic. It was all equally sacred, and the loss of all kinds on Earth over the last century and more equally tragic.

He had seen the past, and now he saw the future, unfolding beneath his vision like the pages of a book. He saw the complexity of Mega Man X's plan, and watched as it fell into place, piece by piece. He observed events yet to come, some bringing hope, and others despair. He gazed into the stars, and past them, taking in every last detail leading up to the end, when all life on Earth would finally be extinguished. But even then, he saw the seed of a new tomorrow that had been left so close at hand. A world completely free of the madness of Dr. Wily, and all his creations.

"All things end, in time," he murmured under his breath when he was done. "A law of the universe, relentless and inescapable. Nothing lasts forever. Nobody is immune to this, not even those who have cheated death more times than any other. Everything fades, eventually... and yet, even then, gone is not the same as forgotten. If anything is eternal in this world, it is memory. Not the individual memory, but that of the collective, of all who live. So long as those who have died are not forgotten, some part of them, at least, will always exist."

"I have left the past behind, but I have not forgotten. Though I can no longer change the course of what is to come, or take part in it in any way, still I owe it to those who have departed this plane through a different path than the one I shall take to ensure that their sacrifices are remembered. Theirs, and those who took up their swords, and those who shall take them once more in days to come. As always, I am limited in what actions I can take, and yet, there is a way. A chance. A possibility, for the day that I am followed here, by those I do not know. So it shall be. For you, my friends."

The man named Duo looked upon the device he had created, then, of a crystal found on Earth as well as his home world, capable of reacting to energy in ways even modern human and reploid science still did not fully understand. Now, he realized that it had only been a beginning, a test of what he was about to create. With its workings firmly held in mind, he gathered up all of his power into his form, the blue energy that was even now transforming Mega Man X. He rose into the air, his palms out before him, as he calculated the exact specifications of what he was about to do.

And with the blue light of hope at his command, he created.

It was a thing of wonder and beauty, a glorious crystal palace, hovering in the sky above the southern pole of his homeworld. He poured all of his knowledge into it, of architecture and design and art and science, so that every last detail would be as close to perfect as he could possibly manage. From the outside, its shape defied description, bending and twisting and curving upon itself in strange ways no matter what angle it was seen from. Gently turning in the wind of his world, it floated above the ruins of his people's civilization, eternal and indestructible.

Once he had finished creating it, all one piece generated from his will without need for assembly or construction, he entered through the single opening, an octagonal hatch located at the top. Inside, it was almost labyrinthine, a network of twisting passages and turning halls visible through the transparent blue crystal it was made from. And yet, there was only one path through it, a single way from the entrance to its center that led up and down and around throughout the entire working, for miles upon miles.

There, at the heart of the palace of crystal, he summoned up his power once more, for a purpose infinitely more complicated and difficult than before. Now, he reached not into the relatively simple field of physics and matter, but through time and space themselves. Into the past, the present, and the future all alike. Into the hearts and minds of those who had once lived, and those who had yet to exist. All who had taken part in the story he had been witness to, living or dead, he gazed upon with his power. And with that power, he filled the crystal with their memory.

From beyond the first room, he began, with two men who had wished to change the world, and the others who had accompanied them on that first journey. Images and sounds appeared, in the crystal walls, of those wondrous days before the Third World War. When Thomas Light and Albert Wily had first met, as rivals rather than partners, both with the best of intentions. Until the world went sour around them, and their hopes and dreams were all ripped away, leaving both of them broken and beaten, yet still willing to give everything they had to save the world from mankind's folly.

Down the hall, the memories continued, theirs as well as all of those who had joined them. Vanessa Tercel's devotion and Randall Simdorn's faith were encoded side by side with Schroeder Dunlap's trust and Dan Grevis' treachery. Ezriah Hyrume's climb to glory was accompanied by Olivier Xanthos' fall from grace, and Jessica Bravewind's loyalty echoed through time in contrast to Steven Wilcox's deception. Trenton Corbun's greatest failure and Darwin Vinkus' finest hour were recorded with the faintest whispers of Eddie's slow path towards thought.

Down the hall, the story continued, as the age of Robot Masters began. Blues' first thoughts as he came to life, changing the world with his very existence, walked the halls to the sides of any who entered as his voice rang through them, until the tragic day when the hero named Albert Wily was broken beyond repair. As the monstrosity who slowly took his place began his own path of darkness and despair, so too did Thomas Light continue on his journey, and with him, the memories of the first generation of Robot Masters were summoned up and gently placed inside the palace.

For those who might one day find his world, he replicated the first thoughts of Rock and Roll Light, and the six who had been created with them, who Rock would be forced to destroy when Dr. Wily turned them to evil. Through the winding halls of the palace, he continued to record their story, throughout the age of the Robot Masters. Doc Man's madness replayed itself in sound and light, as did Blues' return, and reunion with his family. Rush's cheerfulness and Beat's spirit were accompanied by Trenton Corbun's redemption and Darwin Vinkus' conflict.

Sergei and Kalinka Cossack's torments were recorded, along with the happiness that came after, as was that of Pharaoh Man and his fellow Robot Masters. The tragedy of Olivier Xanthos' demise and the often contradictory life of Bass were recalled, along with the long, strange path walked by Treble and the unique outlook of Auto. His own part in the story of Earth was added with equal candor, as was the pride and the fall of King. Finally, with regret and sorrow, he showed how it had ended. How so many had laid down their lives against Wily's final creation, in defense of Light's.

Still the story continued, through the palace of memory, as the survivors prepared for the future, until the day it dawned. James Cain's life was recorded as he awakened Mega Man X, whose own thoughts and dreams reflected and echoed through the beginning of the age of reploids. Cancer's cheerful pacifism contrasted with Sigma's grim duty, and that of the 1st Unit who accompanied him, until Zero Omega and the Maverick Virus awakened together, and changed everything for everybody who lived upon that world.

He recorded them all, one Maverick Uprising after another, through the X-Hunters and Doppler and Repliforce and URFAWP. The continued fight of the Maverick Hunters against a seemingly immortal foe was accompanied by the equally vital struggles of the Scion's Zenith in a shadow war against Darwin Vinkus and those who followed him. Iris' tragic dream and Colonel's unwavering resolve shone alongside Dynamo's insanity and Signas' leadership. Alia's intelligence, Lifesaver's selflessness, Douglas' camaraderie and Simon King's support were all recorded equally.

Finally, he came to the war that had ended that age as well. Without partisanship or prejudice, he bound the memories of all who had participated into the halls of history. X and Zero, Sigma and Mab, Auto and King, Signas and Wily. Alia and Omega, Prince and Countess, Lifesaver and Lassiter, Dynamo and Douglas. Bastion and Bristol, Margravine and Viscount, Arvis and Donia, Wycost and Willow. Duke and Marquis, Simon King and Oscar Hayes, Hazil and Horn, Earl and Baron. Snake and Pharaoh Man, Allego and Omega, all were there, even the Maverick Generals and Disciples of Wily.

And yet the story continued, through the crystalline halls and into the future. As the path led towards the heart of the palace, Duo filled it with memories yet to come, content in the knowledge that those he saw would never leave their world. Of X's final fate, and Zero's eventual return. Of Ciel's dreams, and Wily's hatred, side by side with Elpis' madness and Omega's bloodlust. Of Phantom's sacrifice, Fefnir's courage, Leviathan's eagerness and Harpuia's pride. And even past that, to the day when that age would end as well, leaving only the seed of a new tomorrow.

"My name is Duo," he said when he was done, and his words were bound into the crystal around him along with his reflection. "And this was our story, the story of Earth. Of humanity, of the Robot Masters, of the reploids, and of others like me. To those who may one day find this place, and hear my words, I charge you to remember us, and the events of our lives. _Remember us._ So long as we are not forgotten, our memories will never die, even though we ourselves are gone." Taking his recording device in hand, he place it on a single pillar at the center of the room.

"I go now to seek my past, and my future as well, beyond the light," he continued solemnly. "To you who may one day come here, I entrust everything that we were. Our dreams, our hopes, our memories and our fates are in your hands now. This was our story. This is our legacy. A legacy of metal. All who hear my words, learn what you can and do what you will. And remember. Always, and forever." He smiled, then, his work complete.

And so he turned to light and faded away, and vanished from that universe forever.

**January 1, 2400, Midnight **

**Space Station Elysium **

"_Carry on my wayward son... there'll be peace when you are done..._"

For a moment, he almost thought somebody had actually spoken, before he recognized the words for the distant memory they were, their context forgotten like so much else of his past life. He had remembered much of it by now, reclaimed piece by piece over the years, but even so there was always more he knew he still couldn't quite put together, the cost of an operation no other sentient being had ever endured. A literal brain transplant, from one body to another, or at least the reploid equivalent of such, had its price.

He stood at the heart of the space station, a masterpiece of art and technology blended together so completely that it was hard to tell where the former left off and the latter began. An intricate network of crystal and metal stretching up, around and over, so that the stars could be seen even from here, all connected to the massive center of power where the heart of the system pulsed almost as if it were beating. The stars, and the planet they orbited, where all those who lived upon the station had come from originally, before the end had begun.

It had often been said that to look down at the world from space was an experience like no other. That the sight of the planet Earth, great and bright and colorful, as seen in its entirety, was one of the most awe-inspiring experiences any man could possibly hope for. And this was true. It was, indeed, a sight that defied description. It was also said that, unfortunately, this was an experience that all too few could ever enjoy. And this was true as well, especially now, for there were all too few left living at all.

"I guess it couldn't last forever," Zero Omega murmured as he stared up at the planet Earth, or rather, what was left of it. Even the wasteland was vanishing now, drowned in the rising waters that were reducing the land to nothing more than scattered islands. Those were undergoing their own calamity, one that had returned again and again in defiance of the will of every other living being in order to plague them with death and destruction. Omega was dead, and the Judges were dead, and Copy-X was dead, but the man behind it all still lived.

"Will he come here?" the other, younger man who was there with him asked quietly. He stood before the heart of the system, at the controls, monitoring the being within that powered it all, his back to the planet in the sky.

"If we give him the chance," Zero replied grimly. "Once he's finished down there, he'll come looking for me, and this will be all that's left. It won't matter to him that there's not enough to maintain the population. As long as anybody is still alive at all, he will never stop." He shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Not on my watch. Not this time. This time, it ends, before he finds us. Whatever the cost."

"You're going, then," the man behind him said quietly.

"Yeah," he confirmed in the same tone of voice. "Me, and the others I've told to meet me up here. We'll be going down there to finish it. And I don't think we'll be coming back."

"What should I do?" the younger man asked after a moment.

"Lead them," Zero told him. "Watch over them. Keep this place running. And when we're done... when it's finally over... do what you can, to repair the damage. Ask _her _what to do, and follow her instructions." He inclined his head towards the sphere of white light, a glowing being of pure energy, encased within the station's core. "It's up to you, now. I know you'll be able to handle it. We'll clean up the sins of the past, and entrust you with the future. With Dr. Light's dream. A world where humans and robots can live in peace."

"Very well," the master of the station said solemnly, looking over his shoulder at last. As with every time they met each others' gaze, Zero couldn't help but think about just how much he resembled his mother. Of him, there was nothing, for he had no genes to pass on, but neither of them had ever cared about such things any more than she had. "Goodbye, father. I won't let you down. Doctor Light's dream still lives, and it will live again."

"I'm proud of you, son," Zero told him, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling, before walking away. "We'll see you again, someday. Where the grass is greener." As he left, and proceeded through the halls of the station, more memories flashed in front of his eyes. Memories of two lives, so different from each other and yet so alike, over centuries of history, of war and peace and everything else in between. There had been bad times, but good ones as well, and in the end, the former had outweighed the latter.

Eventually, he came to the memorial in the depths of the station, a chamber whose walls were inscribed with countless trillions of names. All of those who had died because of the Robot Rebellions, the Maverick Uprisings, and the Neo Arcadian Conflicts were remembered here, as many of their names as they had been able to find. At the center of the room was one more, a plaque in memorium of the station's creator, the one who had made it all possible. Standing before it, Zero regarded it quietly, rereading it for what seemed like the millionth time.

_Ciel Lumiere, March 23__rd__ 2284-December 3__rd__ 2399. Dreams never die. _

Soon, he heard footsteps approaching, from behind and around him, growing louder. There were four entrances to the room, and those who he had asked to come here were doing so from all of them, by the sounds of it. The first two came from the left, side by side, a giant in green and gray and a humanoid reploid in green and white, his arms winged and his face proud. Both were of the same family line, uncle and nephew; idly, he wondered where they had met, and what they'd talked about, before coming at his request.

From before him, two more men approached next, one brother to the younger of the first two, the second Zero's own sibling. In orange and in red and white, the former grave and solemn and the latter smiling despite the situation at hand, they were unchanged and unchangeable, even by the standards of those gathered here. From the right, then, came the women, both beautiful but deadly in different ways. One wore pink and black, and the other blue and white, and once again the smile on the younger's face was offset by the solemness of the elder's.

Finally, from behind him, the last two joined them, and these were different from all the rest. They were intangible and transparent, ghosts of the past, clad in gray robes that identified their nature and their purpose. One had the hideous face of a skull clad in skin, his grin eternal and his eyes a startling blue. The other bore a strong resemblance to the youngest three of them, the fourth sibling, his helmet black and angular.

"It's been a while, everybody," he greeted them all. "Glad you could make it."

"No kidding, man," Fefnir grunted, raising an eyebrow. "You've changed."

"I suppose I have," Zero admitted, glancing back at the memorial plaque, polished to a mirror sheen. His reflection looked back at him, aged and wrinkled, hair turned iron gray. "It was deliberate. Something an old friend of mine told me about, once. It seemed appropriate."

"Is it true, then?" Harpuia asked, approaching. "Is Ciel truly gone?"

"She is," Phantom told him quietly. "I took her away myself. The technology to prolong her life indefinitely exists, up here, but she never had any intentions of using it. She was very tired, when the time came."

"She went peacefully," Zero assured them all. "I was with her as well. Don't grieve too much. We had a long life, together. A good life. A happy life."

"Looks like I was smart, giving up on you all those years ago," Leviathan murmured, shaking her head with a wry smile. "Ah, well. If I had to come in second place, I can live with it, if it's her. I'm glad you made her happy."

"Don't thank me," Zero told her. "Thank X. He was the one who made all of this possible in the first place. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have ever happened. He gave up everything, more than anybody ever should have, for the sake of the world, and for us. Now it's time for those of us who remain to hold up our end of the deal, and do what he couldn't, centuries ago." He glanced at the reapers in gray. "He's gone on as well, I assume?"

"He has," Doc Man confirmed, nodding solemnly. "He's still watching, though, and will be, until the end." The skull-faced Robot Master looked at Alia, then. "This is kind of an awkward time, but he asked me to give you a message. That he's still waiting for you, even now."

"Why am I not surprised by this." Closing her eyes, she smiled wearily. "That much hasn't changed about him. I'm glad."

"Some things never do," Zero told her solemnly, inclining his head to indicate Auto and King. "Exhibits A and B for the people, these two old fogeys. Who woke you up again, anyways? By the time I got there, somebody had already beaten me to it."

"My punk ass nephews, that's who." Auto chuckled, extending one massive hand and rubbing Harpuia's helmet, gaining him an indignant glare. "We spent some time catching up. They're good in a fight, I'll give them that much."

"You want another round, just say the word, big man," Fefnir offered, his grin widening.

"What he said," Leviathan agreed, prompting their brothers to exchange an exasperated glance.

"Not now, young ones," King told him solemnly. "The time for such things has passed, and we have greater responsibilities to see to. I must confess, brother, I'm surprised to see you and your colleague involving yourself directly. I thought that was forbidden."

"It was," Phantom replied. "But the rules have been suspended, for this occasion. This situation has become an exception, and our superiors have finally conceded the necessity of resolving it at any cost. This ends now."

"So what's the catch?" Auto grunted.

"Isn't it obvious?" Doc Man shot back. "You're bringing death with you, as one _of _you. Well, two, technically, but you get the point. What do you _think _the catch is?"

"So," Harpuia said after a moment of silence. "That's the way it is. This is it, then."

"We all knew that already," Alia murmured. "We knew it when we came up here. If we're not the only ones... if we take him with us... it's an acceptable price to pay, and far lighter than those others have been forced to."

"Everything ends, in time," Zero agreed. "Nothing lasts forever. What matters, once you accept that, is what you leave behind for those still to come. Wily refused that truth, and the world has suffered because of it. Now, it's time we remedied that. I can't say I'm pleased by what's happening down there, but the fool's burned his last card. There's nothing left to save him, this time. It has to be now, though, before he starts looking for this place. We've kept it a secret from him for this long, but if he hasn't figured it out, he will soon."

"Not gonna happen," Fefnir said flatly, his smile fading at last. "We still have our duty, even now."

"As do we all," King agreed. "Robot Master, Maverick Hunter, Guardian, Reaper... this is our task. Our final duty. Let it all end, today, so that the world may live once more, free of this conflict. My only concern is for the last of us, who will remain here, at the heart of this station. The Mother System, I believe you have named it."

"We did," Zero confirmed. "Though I've asked her caretaker to change that name, once we're gone, just to be on the safe side. Don't worry. She's changed, since you last saw her. Even then, our father's influence remained with her, but not any more. She finally realized what he was, and cast everything that he made her into away forever."

"So you say." Alia frowned. "But what if something goes wrong? What if _she _goes wrong?"

"If that happens..." Zero trailed off, contemplating it for a moment, before answering. "Then another Mega Man will come, to save the world again, and finish the job. But that's for the future, and now... we have the past to see to. It's time. Let's go." The others nodded, and they all walked away, towards the way back to Earth, and the end of the line.

And the master of Elysium watched them leave, the Mother System with him, and dreamed of the future.

_**Author's Note **_

Hobbes was right, and I don't mean the philosopher. Hyperbole _should _be saved for when you really need it. I spoke too soon last time; _this _one was a bitch, and _this _one's _going _to be a bitch.

If you're reading this, you're almost certainly either one of two kinds of people. A., you're somebody whose interest in what's become known as the "Legacy of Metal" is so intensive, that you're reading this after enjoying hundreds of chapters, thousands of pages, millions of words of what men such as Maelgrim, Erico, and even my own sorry self-along with others less prolific, but no less noteworthy-have ground from the mills of imagination into the eternal, almighty written word on the subject of robots, robot masters, reploids, and the defining line between man and machine.

Or, B., you're some random schmuck with a passing interest in such things who stumbled upon this one day and clicked that link out of pure whim.

Relax. It was a compliment. I _respect_ random schmuckery, and its contributions to the totality of human experience. And there's not much left in this sad shithole of a world that I respect.

All right, time for a history lesson. Feel free to skip to the end if you get bored with my rambling or irritated by my opinions. In 1987, Capcom released _Rockman_ for the Famicom, or as those of us in the US might know it, _Mega Man_ for the NES. This adventure game and story of one robot striking back to save the world against an unstoppable horde of his own kind, led by a mad genius and fallen hero who the First Law of Robotics prevented him from ever harming, was so popular that it spawned untold numbers of successive games, furthering the saga of Mega Man-AKA Rock Light-and his unending struggle against Dr. Wily.

1993 saw a new twist in the myth. _Rockman X_-or _Mega Man X_, whichever you prefer-was set decades in the future, when Dr. Light's final creation became the template for a new age of robotkind, those explicitly on par with humans, where the Robot Masters were right on the line between man and machine. Unarguably darker and edgier, the X Series, while still constrained by censorship standards, still hinted at what the original series had brushed under the carpet; the actual ramifications of global war between human and robot, and the catastrophic loss of life inherent in such.

X's partner, Zero Omega, eventually proved so popular among the fans that he garnered his own sequel series in 2002. _Mega Man Zero_ and its following games upped the ante even moreso; set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland hinted at by _X5_, it blurred, if not outright defied, a black and white morality and the lines between hero and villain. The _Legends_ games in 1998, and _Battle Network_ in 2001, were left up to the players to comprehend their connection to the overall legacy, which many eventually did, and moreso. This was the source of Legacy of Metal. This was what led to what you read now.

Time to shift to another timeline altogether. The 1990s saw the creation of _Rockman: The Robot War_ by an online author known as Maelgrim. Recounting the very first _Rockman_ game in a realistic tale of global destruction and dark philosophy, it became legendary among the fan as a through-the-looking-glass rendition of "what really happened" that cast a new light on Mega Man and everything he endured in order to end the mad, bad, sad Dr. Wily's deranged ambitions born of a misguided desire to change the world.

Maelgrim's work, solitary though it was for more than a decade, inspired others to follow in its footsteps. Near the end of that decade, Erico wrote and released _Mega Man X: End Of A Dream_, the first of many works chronicling Mega Man's successor, his youngest brother X. Though EOAD was an independent work, meant to bridge the gap between _X4_ and _X5_ (as did follow-up stories _The Sound Of Mavericks_ and _Demons Of The Past_), Erico also penned tales of X's first two adventures against the Maverick reploids threatening humanity, _An Uncertain Future_ and _Island Of Awakening_.

Perhaps, though, it is through the sole exception to the rule that he truly set the foundation of the Legacy Of Metal. _Mega Man __X__: Whispers In Time_ was for many years the only work of Erico's set in the first age rather than the second, and it put into words what Capcom had hinted at, but refused to outright state. The end of one era, and the beginning of another. A tragedy doomed by history, _WIT_ may have been depressing as shit, but it connected the dots, and explained what the games' designers obstinately would not (and when they tried, many wished they'd stuck to their guns after all).

It was around this time, back in 2003, that another grunt was inspired by their work enough to climb on stage without anything even remotely close to actual comprehension of just what the fuck he was doing.

All right, time for a break from perspective. Let's get this straight. Of the "first three" in the Legacy Of Metal, my contributions seem to be viewed as the least significant, and rightly so. My earliest work in the medium, 2003's _Return Of The Forsaken, _chronicling _Mega Man 3 _(or the Third Robot Rebellion, whichever you prefer) is nigh-unreadable. 2004's _The Doctor's Defiance_ (god, that's a stupid title) and 2006's _Reality Of Rebellion_ are marginally better, but they still don't quite match up to the general standard of the Legacy Of Metal.

The only Mega Man novelizations I actually feel proud of are 2005's _Blood Among Brothers_ and 2008's _Shades Of Tomorrow_; even if the writing style is still sub-par, at least the ideas behind them are worth looking into. If this _is_ your first encounter with my writing (and you've somehow managed to slog through this without even _liking_ me, which should net you some sort of award all by itself), trust me. Start with one of those two. You might have some minor trouble, timeline-wise, but it beats reading _ROTF_'s atrocious first chapter and considering _that_ to be the standard of my ability.

Please. Don't.

As much flak as I've caught for "tagging along" with Erico and Maelgrim, I've also gotten enough positive feedback to keep me going-and improving-especially during the latter stages. I must have gotten _something_ right; both of them seem to consider me a contributor in the end result, a colossal span of writing spanning decades. Sneer at it as "fanfiction" if you want, but don't expect me to give a shit. If it originated in a corporation's workshops, so be it. The end result is a story of machine and man that I daresay was well worth the time and effort.

More importantly, it's been _fun._ That's all the justification _I_ need for thousands of hours spent at the keyboard, and I'd bet at least a couple bucks that everybody else in on this would at least concede the point, if not agree wholeheartedly. Eleven years ago, I saw a story worth writing, and while I may have started out with crap stylistically, I don't regret the concepts behind it. Not even for a second.

My stories of the Classic series were never meant to be "one true canon" so much as one possible interpretation of the events portrayed. Specifically, I wanted to present them in a way that would lead naturally into the X series. I find it highly implausible that in Wily's day, the Robot Rebellions would be something out of Astro Boy or whatever in which nobody got killed and everybody just goes home happy at the end of the day without any change in their mental state at all, and then thirty years later, people _are_ dying and global damage is both threatened and eventually carried out.

That being said, looking back, I'm willing to concede that I did go a little _too_ far. Chalk that up to my own inexperience as a writer, back in those days; at the same time, though, I don't think I'm _entirely_ out of line, even factoring in the altered tone to fit in with the X and Zero games. There's a clear contrast going on between the graphics and the storyline, is probably the best way to put it. The premise of the X series says it all: Mavericks kill humans, and Maverick Hunters kill Mavericks. That's not a pleasant world to live in, and it gets more unpleasant the further you go along.  
>Five years later, I wrote what I intended to be my last installation in the saga. By that time, the Legacy of Metal had already been named and formed, and those whose hands crafted more of it than me had other ideas and other intentions. Some involving me directly, and some only peripherally.<p>

(Yeah, yeah. I see you yawning. Yeah, you. I'm almost done with the recap, I promise.)

2007 saw Erico return from his departure from the world of Mega Man to pen, among other things, _Guiding Rainbow's Light_, the tale of a young Dr. Light and Dr. Wily striving to save the world from the apocalyptic fallout of the Third World War, long before Robot Masters were ever conceived of. 2010 was the year in which Maelgrim finally brought his long-awaited sequel, _Rockman 2: Dreams Of Madness_ to this site, though it was thought of-and initiated-years before.

What you've just finished reading if you've stuck with me this far is the end result of a decade's attempts to render Rock Light's life into written form. It's a tale in many ways meant as a counterpart to _WIT_, one not of him, but of his successor, and of the end of yet another age leading to the beginning of the next. It's a story of man and machine, of those who died and those who refused to. Perhaps most of all, it's a means of filling in the blanks, of tying together the loose threads of story and saga, a task that Capcom has monumentally failed at on multiple occasions, to a laughable degree.

(Warning: Unrepentantly opinionated and blatantly cranky grumblings ahead. Last chance to skip to the part that's actually interesting!)

Let's talk about that for a bit. Around early 2001, things started going wrong, starting with Mega Man X6. It was a game which Keiji Inafune and his creative team had no part in, because they refused to make it; they had intended the X series to end with X5. This ended up heralding a downward spiral that would kill the series, with each successive game making it even more apparent that the writers just didn't care about the storyline any more, culminating in Maverick Hunter X, full of more retcons than a new Castlevania game these days.  
>By the time that came out, the rot had spread. The Zero series ended in a blatant, unsatisfying and unceremonious plot hook for the EVEN BETTER NEW SERIES!, which also required a retcon to kill off three fan favorite characters for no other reason, in the most assed way possible. Battle Network eventually succumbed as well. Even when Classic was revived, to the applause of millions, myself among them... well, I'll concede that I liked the gameplay, but if a six-year-old who can't tell that Mr. X is Dr. Wily in a bad disguise thinks your plot is dumb, you have a problem. And yes, I <em>have <em>tested this.  
>The final straw, however, was not a game, but a book. Rockman X: Complete Works, a sourcebook published around the same time as Maverick Hunter X, and likely thus responsible for a lot of the retcons (though some are just unexplainable blatant stupidity). The star feature of which is the "explanation" they provided for what fans had finally wanted to know: the origin of the Maverick Virus. Which is to say, a deliberately vague, insultingly obvious lie about <em>M<em>_ega__ M__an__ X_ being the source of the Maverick Virus, directly contradicting _everything_ having to do with Zero in X4 and X5.

That was the point in which Capcom could no longer be trusted. Word Of God is all well and good, but what do you do when "god" lies to your face, and doesn't even try to hide the fact that they are? From my point of view, Capcom has failed, utterly and completely. We asked them for answers, and they either refused, or made us wish we hadn't asked. They had their chance, and they blew it.

Which is, in fact, the very reason I started this story in the first place. I wrote this one, meant to bridge the gap between Mega Man X5 and Mega Man Zero, to do what Capcom could not. To tie it all together, to make it all make sense, and to tell how it ended before it began again. I'm not being Jossed. I'm doing it from the other side in outright defiance of the official story. They'll never even know I went this far to flip the bird to them, but it'll make me feel better having done it, all the same.

Unfortunately, that's easier said than done, especially considering just how complicated trying to make a coherent timeline out of this mess is. The sad fact of the matter is, there's literally no possible way to include every single game, let alone anything outside of them; the contradictions are irreconcilable, and that's just the way it is. In addition, a personal guideline of mine that I've always worked by is to never trust anything aside from the actual games themselves. Anything else is only as accurate as whoever did it felt like putting in the effort to be, and far too often, they don't. At all.

It might come as a surprise considering how often I do it, but I actually believe that the choice to cross a game off your personal timeline _shouldn't_ be easy. If it is, you probably haven't thought about it long enough, and I make sure to give every case in which I do so a lot of consideration. Especially since the very reason I got into writing this stuff in the first place was because of the desire to look at games, at story, characters and mechanics, and fill in the blanks. To ask, "who, what, where, when, why, and how?" and then come up with the answers.

I'll admit, I probably react a little stronger than most to this, because it's hitting a nerve that's been aching a long time, one that continues to be struck by an unfortunate trend in the industry these days. That trend being, pulling out massive retcons in a long-running series due to not wanting to bother putting in the effort to connect new games to the old ones, either due to laziness or prima donna narcissism ("Why should I have to work _my_ plots into the old timeline? _My_ plots are _better_!").

This is hardly the only series to suffer from such behavior; on the contrary, it would be quicker and easier to list the ones that _haven't_ at this point. Even so, Capcom has gone above and beyond in making jackasses of themselves; do I even need to mention the cancellation of Legends 3 by now? If those worthless sourcebooks were the last straw, _that_ one set the haystack on fire. At this point, I'm just waiting for the day the company goes bankrupt, and considering how they've been doing the last few years, I might not have long to do so.

That being said, for a while, I wasn't sure whether actually writing this one was a good idea or not. As different and interesting as it would be from everything else I've ever written, and not just because it's not a Novelization, there's no getting around the fact that it steps on a few toes. It has to, in order to work. More than a few readers seem to have found this not to their tastes, and I suppose I can't argue that; to each their own (needless to say, the same goes for anybody who disagrees with my opinions on certain games). To those who stuck around all the way to the end, thanks, guys. It's been a hell of a ride.

What _does _irritate me is when somebody claims I'm being inaccurate to the canon, considering just how much time and effort I've spent making sure I _do_ have my facts straight. I'll concede I might have gone too far with my Classic series works, but this one is a different story. Keep in mind that I'm working off of the games, and _only _the games (and only the ones that can be plausibly contained into a single, unifying timeline, with one possible exception), I'm willing to stake my reputation, such as it is, on my accuracy here.

(While I've got a moment, I actually have nothing against the ZX games themselves; they're fun enough, and I suppose if I'd really tried, I could have shoehorned them into the timeline. I guess I'm still holding a grudge over what they did to the Zero series to make them happen. I do that sometimes.)

Things got _bad _between X5 and Zero, and there's no way around that. The world is reduced to a single city, alone in the wasteland. The world's population is almost completely wiped out. Zero dies, as does damn near everybody else; I was pushing things as it was by keeping Alia around. Wily lives again, despite everything he's done, exiled rather than killed. And X breaks. Replay the Mega Man Zero games if you don't believe me. Check the script. It happened. It's all over the Zero series, and heavily implied to be on its way through X. All I did was explain why and how.

If this story is just as depressing as Erico's _WIT_, if not more, than I'm only partially to blame. It's not hard to figure out what happened, and I prefer to tackle that head-on rather than look away and pretend it never happened. Mega Man isn't a series where people get happy endings. It never was. I did the best I could without contradicting the games, and I can only hope that if nothing else, I succeeded in making it all meaningful. If it hurts, that's because it's supposed to. Don't go pressing that reset button. That's what Capcom did, and we all saw how well _that_ worked out.

In the end, I guess that's what's at the core of this story. The mutually contradictory concepts of hope and despair. It's all well and good to look on the bright side when life is good, or at least tolerable. Keeping your faith when it's as bad as it gets, and _still _getting worse, in defiance of reason, is another story. The fall of Mega Man X is set in stone by the Zero series_. _The reason this one ended up the way it did is because I couldn't see him doing so for anything less. It's a testament to his strength that he kept it together as long as he did. Would you have been able to, in his place?

I doubt we'll ever know for sure just what the original plan was, back when they were putting them out one game at a time. All I could do was to approximate a fair estimate, to the best of my abilities, using the materials at hand, as long as I was confident of their reliability. I can't say in good faith that Keiji Inafune ever imagined King leading a secret society of Robot Masters in the time of the reploids, or Auto returning from the dead to fight the good fight again. But it made the story better, and at the end of the day, I'm a storyteller. I go with what works.

Now that I've gotten that out there, I'll admit, looking back, this one probably could have been better. Part of that's due to experimental ideas with format and style that didn't quite work out the way I expected; all I can say on that score is that I've learned from my mistakes. Another part is due to a boneheaded decision to start on June 4, 2012, no matter what, which resulted in me having to start this one while still finishing up another story at the time. _That _particular time crunch ended up proving detrimental to both, in the end.

Add to that the fact that it's been a long couple of years, with a lot of personal issues that I'd prefer not to elaborate on, and I hope it's understandable that my self-enforced "schedule" ended up slipping more and more, until I was eventually forced to just say "screw" and put them up whenever they were done. Even so, I'm happy with the end result; maybe some things could have been done better, but overall, I think it was worth the time and effort. As a grand finale for everything I've written in the Legacy Of Metal, and as a bridge between eras in-story, it works, and that's good enough for me.

(All right, I've rambled long enough, and my head's killing me, so I think I'm going to wrap this up; as much as I've learned from writing this story, I can't say I'm displeased to finally be done with it. Ye gods, it's been more than _three years_ since I didn't have to worry about a self-inflicted "deadline.")

Moving right along, I hope this goes without saying, since there _are _no words for how much I owe both Erico and Maelgrim; without them, this story never would have existed, and I probably never would have gotten into writing in the first place. Thanks, guys. More of the same to everybody else who's chimed in on this mess, Roy Fokker foremost among them. Keep it real. To Sarah, Matt and Audrey, thanks as well, just for sticking with me all these years; that alone deserves a medal or something.

For all the readers still following along, once again, there are no words. I might not be calling you out by name this time, but that's because it's coming up on midnight realtime, I have to work tomorrow, I've got a headache the size of Kansas, and I've kept you waiting long enough. Hope you understand. Why you people put up with me, I'll never know.

And to a certain crazy girl who shall remain nameless, we're gonna have words about stealing my last beer. Don't worry, I ain't gonna embarrass you in "public." Let's hope this year goes better than the last. We'll figure this shit out yet.

Those who've been with me for longer than this story probably know what comes next. Time to ditch my dignity (as if I had any left in the first place) and ask for help when I need it. Tell me how I did, guys, and don't spare my feelings doing it. I'm a big boy. I can take it. What did you like, and what did you not? How was the overall plot? The action? The drama? The suspense? The emotional involvement? Did it all make sense, if nothing else? Most of all, how did the characters read? Which were the most interesting, and which the least? I need this, guys. How else am I supposed to get any better, aside from hearing what you think? Let me know.

On that note, where am I going from here? Well, for one, I'm taking a break; it's been more than three years, close to three and a half, and I think I've earned it. Once I'm ready to get back in the game, I'll be closing out my "career" here, I'm afraid; I'm not getting any younger, and it's about time I followed through on my intentions to move on into original, published work (wish me luck; I'm gonna need it). I'm not through yet, though; there's still a collaboration with a colleague of my acquaintance being planned for an unspecified date in the future.

Before that, it's time I corrected an unintentional disservice I did to my favorite game of all time, back when I first started out. It was the best RPG ever made, and it seemed logical at the time to start there, but looking back, "hideous" is an understatement. I owe it more than that, and there's a certain sense in ending my time here where I began, especially considering the game in question. If nothing else, it's a good way to see just how far I've come, and how much I've improved, over twelve years hammering on the keyboard.

I'm going back in time, and giving Chrono Trigger one more try. Come along, if you're interested. I'll see you there and then.

_~Magus523, April 1, 2014 _


End file.
